Nowhere Man
by ajsqdaway
Summary: Too much, too fast - a flurry of painful events are simply too much for Martin to handle. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter One

Samantha missed the old-style telephones that had convenient, heavy receivers for a satisfying slam down. Snapping a cell phone closed just didn't have the same satisfaction. So, after her very unappealing conversation with Finn's father Brian, all Samantha Spade could do was glare at the time and date showing on her phone's screen.

"Parental dispute?"

Dry humor poorly concealed colored Vivian Johnson's question. Samantha had no problem detecting the tone and refocused her glare. Vivian threw up her hands in surrender, her eyes large but warm with understanding. The standoff ended with Samantha issuing a short laugh.

"I didn't see this one coming," Samantha admitted with a shake of her head. "I didn't think Brian would object to vaccines, of all things." She slipped her phone into her jacket pocket.

Vivian gave her a sympathetic smile. "Is that what you've been stressing over for the past week?" Sam looked sheepish. "I guess it's a good thing that you had him sign that release of parental responsibility, then."

Samantha closed her eyes and rubbed a spot just between her eyebrows as she sighed. "Yeah, I can see that now. I'm just trying to be nice and keep him informed and involved. Lesson learned, I guess."

"And it's just the beginning."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Samantha muttered.

Vivian chuckled and turned back to her desk, and Samantha shifted into work mode with a passing thought to tell Martin of the latest turn of events involving Brian. She dropped onto her desk chair, glanced at the clock on the bullpen wall and calculated that over thirty-six hours had passed since she last heard from Martin. She frowned and thought back over the past two days. Yes, the latest cases were a distraction, but it did seem like a long time without touching base. Samantha pulled out her cell phone again and looked at it, wondering if she should call him. A wash of sadness surprised her - she missed him.

"Willing it to ring?" Danny sounded like he was just _asking_ for a slap. Samantha gave him a sidelong glare and allowed his smirking face to pull her from the doldrums.

"Funny, Danny. I was trying to decide if I should call Martin." She set the phone on her desktop. "I haven't heard from him since he headed for the hills."

Danny stopped at her desk, hitched a hip on the edge and tilted his head down to meet her eyes. "I doubt there's reliable cell phone use when backpacking. That's why I avoid that outdoorsy stuff."

Samantha snorted and rubbed that spot between her brows again. "Don't even try to sell me that bill of goods, Danny. Remember, I know you too well. You just don't like to sweat."

Danny jutted his chin and checked his hair. "And chance ruining this work of art? You bet!"

She gave him a sharp glance and then rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Spare me. I'd come back with a witty repartee, but I'm just too tired."

Danny stood and adjusted his jacket, and then gave her a patronizing pat on her shoulder. "Oh, the travails of the modern-day, working mother."

"You better distance yourself now_, querido_, before both us mothers go medieval on your ass." Elena none-too-gently wacked the back of Danny's head as she strode by with a load of files tucked under her arm. "Quit pestering Samantha and help me with these phone records."

"Slave driver," he whispered as he fixed his disturbed hair.

"Ah, ah," Sam warned with a wave of her finger. "Please don't shatter my image of your perfect marriage, mister."

"Ha!" Elena exclaimed as the files thumped on the bullpen conference table. "Be sure to relay that image to me sometime. I need a good laugh."

Samantha's mood lifted. She knew that Martin would call when he could. The time away with his Narcotics Anonymous sponsor was overdue - Martin admired the older, retired law enforcement officer and always returned from their infrequent hikes revitalized. A pang of guilt struck her when she looked back over the past weeks, realizing now how distracted she'd been with Finn and Brian. Samantha was glad Martin had a friend with similar interests he could turn to when he needed a willing ear.

Things would be better when they finally moved in together, she reasoned. His year deadline of living apart was almost over, and they were more than ready to take the next life step together. She glanced at the clock again and calculated that Martin should be on his way back by now. "I'll try him at lunch," she decided before turning back to her accumulated workload.

* * *

"Hello?"

Not much scared Nettie Wells, but she was also very aware that her advanced age and small stature made her an easy victim. She'd been living alone in this back country as a widow for many years and was very cautious of strangers. Normally, the shotgun rack in her vintage pick-up truck held her Spencer carbine; she'd never wielded it at a human, but had no problem with the concept.

There was something about the solitary figure wandering down the road, though, that awakened her motherly concern. It was raining, and although the winter's snow was all but gone with the breaking of spring, its chill remained and the precipitation was cold. Dusk wasn't far off. She slowed the truck a few paces behind the man and looked him over as he walked a crooked line .

He wore a light colored t-shirt that was wet, clinging enough that she could see the color of his skin beneath. His jeans were worn white in spots with frayed hems that dragged the ground at his heels. Tears in the thighs presented as dark slashes. He wore soggy socks on his feet but no shoes. He wasn't a typical hitchhiker.

Nettie made sure her door was locked, sped up to pull alongside him, and then cracked her window just enough to offer a greeting. He didn't respond and continued to stare straight ahead as he dragged his feet. She studied his profile. Even thought the rain washed him clean, she could see scrapes and cuts on his face and arms. She suspected the dark spots on the soaked shirt were blood.

"Hello?" she called again with rising alarm. "Are you hurt?"

When the man failed to acknowledge her in any way, she noted the glassy look in his eye and made a decision. Nettie pulled ahead of him and stopped the truck. Before getting out, she unlocked both doors and settled her coat hood over her head. When she stepped out, the stranger was a few yards behind her truck. She walked back to where the exhaust pipe puffed out a steamy stream that swirled around her legs and veiled the scene in a surreal cloak of fog. She raised her hands and the man walked right into her, stopping only when she gripped his biceps in a firm hold. His skin was icy cold, his complexion pasty.

"Are you hurt?" She asked again, trying to catch his attention. The blank stare made his blue eyes seem vacant, but his athletic physique and trimmed hair told her a different story. Up close, she could see that the rain-washed injuries were fresh. This young man was in trouble.

"Let's get you warmed up," Nettie suggested gently. The man didn't blink or resist when she guided him around to the passenger side of the truck. She spoke all the while, telling him what she was doing as she maneuvered each limb into the truck. Once there, she pulled a blanket from behind the seat and tucked it around him. As she did all this, she thought back and didn't recall seeing any sign of a car crash, which was the only thing that made sense of his condition.

Once he was all wrapped up and buckled in, Nettie returned to the driver's side and climbed in behind the wheel. From there, she studied him again. "I don't think my little town's got what you need, honey, but it's all we have."

She dropped the truck into gear and headed into town.

TBC

3/8/11

_A/N: Here I go again posting a story that I haven't finished yet . . . I always swear I won't do it again, but see how I listen to myself? I have it all done in my head, though, so don't fret! It will get done! AJB_


	2. Chapter 2

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

CHAPTER TWO

Two cases kept Samantha so busy that Martin didn't cross her mind again until it was time to go home. The longer days of spring meant that when she picked up Finn and fed him, there was still a chance for a walk before putting him down for the night, a habit Martin instilled into their routine. She smiled and shed the cases from her mind, leaving them to her teammates to close. At this point, it was all paperwork, and she let them know her portion was done and in Jack's inbox.

By the time she said her goodnights and hit the elevator, she started making a "to do" list in her mind for the next day, Finn's doctor appointment topping the list. By the time she reached the garage, her issues with Brian were again in the forefront of her mind. As she got into her car, she fought the urge to leave a snippy voicemail on his cell phone, knowing it was out of range since he was on his way to South America for business. "What, am I still in High School?" she scolded herself as she buckled her seat belt. "Grow up, Spade."

She didn't know why this was bothering her so much. After all, she did have the final say in anything involving Finn. It was in Finn's best interest to have his biological dad around, right? Was it possible for him to be around and _not_ involved? Martin doted on the boy so it wasn't as if Finn didn't have a male role model. Sighing, she made note to have some sort of guidelines in place before she and Martin moved in together and make sure that Brian knew of them.

Suddenly, Samantha was tired, but accepted that her day wasn't over because she had to take care of Finn. Not that it was work - she loved it - but it left her with no time to herself. As she wormed her way through traffic she though back over the last several weeks and began to feel a little guilty. She'd neglected Martin recently. Juggling the demands in her life was trickier than she'd expected, especially since Finn started walking a few months ago.

Now with Brian gone on an extended assignment, she'd take care of Finn's vaccinations and pamper Martin for awhile. When they agreed to wait a year before moving it, it had made sense. What she didn't count on was the extremely slow rate at which the time crawled by. With the deadline in sight, a giddy rush of excitement produced a happy grin at the thought.

She parked her car and, before exiting the car to collect Finn, pulled out her phone with the desire to hear Martin's voice. Her smile changed to a pout when the call went straight to voice mail. She savored the sound of his short speech before leaving a blatantly suggestive message.

* * *

"He's in a catatonic state and has no I.D. that we can find," Dr. Cross reported to the two people before him. "His wounds are minor, really. There's a sizeable bump on his head, just above the left temple, and a variety of scrapes and bruises. They could be from a car accident, or they could also be from falling down a hill. I can't tell. There are no abrasions indicating a seat belt or window glass, but we don't know how long he's been wandering in the rain. There have been some pretty harsh downpours in the past few hours."

"So is he catatonic from injury or something else?" Nettie asked, knowing there was no reason Dr. Cross should tell her anything, but she'd known Carl Cross since he was in kindergarten and knew that the trust went both ways.

"I can't say. I speculate something mental."

"Like what?" Deputy Gary Stevens inquired. Nettie had known him since boyhood, too. Being a retired school teacher and counselor left her with deep ties to this small community. These men were like the mountains and trees that embraced all of them - part of the landscape of River Bend.

"Can't say, Gary. He could be an at-risk adult or a regular guy with a regular job. I can't tell right now."

"I'll get some prints and run them. He doesn't look like a criminal, but you never know these days." Deputy Stevens put his pen away and shoved his small notebook in his coat pocket. "I have a print kit at the station. I'll be right back." He nodded to Nettie and left the tidy clinic.

"So he'll be staying here for awhile?" Nettie asked.

"I can't think of what else to do with him," Dr. Cross sighed. "I'll have to notify Social Services if nothing turns up with the prints, but for now he needs monitoring because of that knot on his head. Twenty-four hours should be adequate." He smiled down at the diminutive woman. "I take it I can count on your help with that, Mrs. Wells? "

She snorted. "I do have a weak spot for the troubled ones, don't I?"

The physician gave her shoulder an affectionate pat. "And I, for one, am thankful for that. Go home and get some sleep. I'm on duty until midnight so you can spell me after that. Right now, Urgent Care needs me. "

Nettie nodded and gathered her damp coat. "Let me look in on him one more time, then I'll go."

Dr. Cross patted her back as he started to walk away. "You're one of the good ones, Mrs. Wells."

Nettie shook her head and headed down the short hall to the clinic's only occupied room. "One of the gullible ones, maybe," she muttered to herself as she walked. The door was propped open and a nurse met her on the way out.

"I'll be at the nurse's station, Nettie," the nurse said. "I'm tackling some of those files while I have a chance."

"Okay, Rosie. I'm going home in a few minutes but I'll be back later." She turned her attention to the still form propped up in the bed.

Now that she saw him cleaned up, Nettie realized that her find was a little older than she first thought. The fine lines around his eyes and mouth put him in his thirties, but those haunted blue eyes were ageless and without guile. The fixed stare was disconcerting but she had the sense that it wasn't the norm. This young man was physically fit, with healthy skin and trimmed fingernails. His smooth palms told her he was used to office work but a callous on his index finger troubled her. Scars on his torso indicated some violence in the past; a soldier or perhaps law enforcement of some sort? She hoped for that, anyway, and her gut told her she was on the right track. With that, the young man won a champion without uttering a word.

"We'll get you where you belong," she said, automatically smoothing back his hair. "Don't worry about anything right now, honey. You just get better."

TBC

3-12-22


	3. Chapter 3

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter Three

The next morning, Samantha pondered Martin's silence as she rode the elevator up to work. Her two voicemails from yesterday were still unanswered. She left another message while she got ready for work and thought she might have sounded a little grouchy, so when the elevator door opened she dialed again. This time she got a report stating that his mailbox was full and unable to take any new messages.

She frowned, still puzzling over that when Jack strode from the bullpen leaving Danny and the others behind. "Sam," he said in his no-nonsense tone. She could tell from his expression that something was wrong. She slowed to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

"Jack?" She asked tentatively, open phone still in her palm.

He barely broke stride when he cupped her elbow and turned her back toward the elevator. "Martin's at a clinic in town called River Bend."

Her heart fluttered. "What? Where's River Bend? Is he all right? What happened?"

They stepped into the elevator and Jack started talking as the doors slid closed. His voice was low and even, its calming cadence doing nothing to slow her heart. "River Bend's in West Virginia. I talked to a Deputy Stevens there. He said a local brought Martin in to their clinic when she found him wandering down the middle of a road in the rain late yesterday afternoon. He didn't have any identification on him. They made him through fingerprints."

Icy fingers trailed down Samantha's spine and knotted as a fist in her gut. "That's not even close to where he was backpacking," she said, slightly dazed.

"Well, Martin's not talking so we may have to figure how he ended up in Mayberry to find the hiking partner."

"But . . ."

"We don't know any more, Sam," Jack said. "Olczyk called me after trying to contact Victor. Officially, we are looking for Martin's missing hiking partner. The others will carry on with our current case."

"They can't contact Victor? What about Martin's mom? Or cousins? The Tolands? "

Jack shook his head. "All dead ends. It's like the entire family disappeared." The elevator bumped to a stop. "Victor's not answering his cell and hasn't returned any calls from his office since yesterday morning, according to his receptionist. It seems the Assistant Director suddenly took time off three days ago, but has been keeping in touch with his office up until yesterday."

Dread rolled Samantha's stomach. Her instincts screamed negatively. She pushed it all aside and hurried after Jack to the car pool.

The flight was short and uneventful but gave Samantha entirely too much time to think. While Jack rented a car, Samantha arranged child care with Elena's help. Jack drove and she tried to find more on Martin's hiking partner and sponsor, but both cellular and internet capabilities were spotty along the route. All she could do was start a timeline, which was much too bare for Samantha's taste. Frustration, along with worry, slowly rose and churned her already delicate stomach.

Suddenly Jack spoke, jarring her from her frantic thoughts. "Were there any - issues - between you two lately?"

Samantha felt a blush rise on her cheeks. "No." Now she knew how spouses felt during case interviews. She shifted uncomfortably and tried to think like an agent. "Um, I have been a bit distracted with Brian," she confessed.

"But Martin's been okay? He's been sleeping, eating - ?"

Samantha stared out the windshield as she searched her memory. "I thought so. He hasn't mentioned any problems. The few times he's stayed over recently he got up with Finn in the night so I could sleep, but he hasn't been sleep deprived or anything like that." She fought a losing battle to quell guilt. Did she miss something since being distracted with Brian? She changed the subject to force an organization to her scattered thoughts. "Ah, any idea why he's in West Virginia?"

Jack gave her a sidelong look as if she should know the answer to that one. "No," he said. "You know of any relatives in that area?"

"No - not really. There's a family hunting cabin somewhere, but I don't know where. West Virginia never came up that I can remember."

Sporadic rain teased them during the drive making the car's wipers smear a muddy arc that refused to clear. Closer to their destination, a downpour was so heavy it was difficult to see the road but the slurry windshield was properly rinsed. Both agents voiced the possibility of rain causing Martin to crash somewhere, but without any clues as to his reason for being in this part of the state in the first place they wouldn't know where to start a search. The blanket state BOLO on Martin's car was all they had working for them now.

When they reached the outskirts of River Bend, Samantha's stomach hatched more than a few butterflies as her imagination took her to places she didn't want to go. At this time, the female voice of Jack's GPS annoyed her to the point where she wished she had a hammer. Finally, the rain suspended and a tiny clinic tucked among the trees came into view as they rounded a sweeping turn.

"I'll call Deputy Stevens and let him know we're here," Jack said as he parked in the small lot. Samantha was out of the car before the engine quieted.

Jack spoke on his phone as he trotted to catch up with her, disconnecting when they walked into the clinic doors side by side. They marched to the reception desk where a wide-eyed woman straightened in alarm with their aggressive approach. River Bend's Urgent Care Center was nothing like a large city hospital, but seemed appropriate for the small, rural community. It was clear that the receptionist was not used to strangers and their intimidating urgency.

"We're here for Martin Fitzgerald," Samantha snapped. The badges flashed in the receptionist's face only furthered her fluster.

"Uh. . . . Oh, yes. Dr. Cross' patient. He'll be with you in a mo - "

"What room?" Samantha demanded. She locked a steely glare at the poor woman and Jack put a restraining hand on her arm.

"We'll be waiting over there," Jack said in a level tone before redirecting to Samantha. "Agent Spade, a word, please?" He used his grip on her arm to maneuver her to the five-chair waiting area.

"What the hell, Jack? I want to see Martin!"

Jack turned her to face him and got a firm grip on both of her forearms - at this moment, he was probably the only person who could get away with such an action. He gave her a little shake. "Sam, shut up a second and look around." He waited until she did so, ignoring the fire in her eyes. "I know you're upset. So am I. Remember that we are out of our territory here and we need more information."

She shrugged away his grip and stood fast, locking her angry eyes onto Jack's calm ones. The connection had its effect and she finally let out a frustrated breath and nodded acquiescence. Jack released her and she ran her fingers nervously through her hair, pulling it back and away from her face. She held the pose for a few seconds, eyes closed, before dropping her arms and nodding. "I need to see him," she said, an emotional quiver painting the plaintive request. She jammed her hands in her coat pockets and opened her worried eyes to him.

Jack's dark smile twisted with sympathy. "I know, but we need to be prepared. You need to be prepared. Trust me?" He held her gaze.

She gave him a tiny nod, not sure of her voice. Her surrender was well timed with Dr. Cross' arrival in the in the lobby. He approached them with an extended arm and introductions and handshakes were quick. Sam gave the doctor her grudging respect when he took the time to properly check their identification cards.

"Mr. Fitzgerald has been through some kind of trauma, be it physical or mental, or even a combination of both. Physically, he has minor wounds, none that required stitching, and scattered bruising. There's also a head trauma."

"How bad is it?" Jack asked.

Dr. Cross pointed to his own head to show the location. "There's a good sized lump here, but no indication how it occurred. It doesn't seem severe enough to account for what we're seeing, but he does have a low grade concussion."

"He had another head injury four months ago in that same area," Samantha said. "Could that complicate things now?"

The doctor nodded. "Definitely. Can you get me the attending physician's contact information?"

Samantha nodded, plucked her phone from a pocket and jabbed the buttons with a trembling finger. "Sure. I have it on my history . . ." She scrolled for the number while Jack listened to the doctor.

"We washed bark, leaves and dirt from some of the wounds, but not much. The rain washed most of it away before he got here, and between that and the way the bruises are coloring up, it tells me that he must have been walking quite a while before Nettie found him."

"Nettie?"

"Yes, a local woman. Nettie Wells. She's lived in River Bend a long time and knows most everyone here. She brought him in and has been with Mr. Fitzgerald since then. We're a bit short staffed."

"She's a volunteer?" Jack tried to clarify.

"She used to be a nurse before her husband died. She lost her taste for hospitals at that point, but started volunteering a few years after. She handles a lot of the administrative paperwork." He pointed to one of two hallways when Sam ended her call. "This way." Dr. Cross spoke as they walked. "Deputy Stevens searched the area where he was found for any sign of a car wreck without any results. We still don't know what happened."

Near the end of the hall, he paused in front of a door as Samantha handed him a phone number she'd scrawled on her business card and refrained from pushing the doctor away from the door as he thanked her. When he finally pushed the door open with impossible slowness, Samantha stepped past him and into the room. A small, grey-haired woman rose to meet them.

"Nettie, these are Mr. Fitzgerald's cohorts." Dr. Cross made introductions, but his voice faded to the background of Samantha's mind.

As soon as the room's door opened, Sam's eyes were on Martin. He was sitting up, clean and scrubbed and staring at a faraway spot on the opposite wall. Faint red lines marked his face and arms, but as the doctor noted, they were minor. She found herself moving forward to his bedside where she stopped and gripped the cold side rail. Her eyes never left Martin's face.

"Hey, Marty," she whispered.

The blankness in his eyes turned her stomach. When she'd first confronted him about his drug use, he had the same wide look, but this time, instead of anguish, his eyes were completely empty, shadowed beneath with sooty purple curtains.

Martin simply wasn't there.

She reached out and stroked the side of his face with her fingertips. There wasn't a quiver of response to her touch. Samantha felt her throat close and the room suddenly seemed too warm. Then she heard a metallic ting as the bedrail lowered and a gentle hand rested on her shoulder and steered her to sit on the edge of the mattress.

"I'm sure he hears you," a woman's voice said gently. "It's just too much for him to answer right now."

Samantha swallowed a growing lump and turned her eyes to the speaker. Nettie Wells' form wavered through her tears and Samantha nodded an acknowledgement. Gulping once, she ran her hand down Martin's neck and shoulder, looking for any response in his eyes. Finding none, she traced his arm and wrapped her fingers around his hand. Leaning in, she cupped his jaw with the other hand, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "I've got you now," she whispered. "Everything will be okay."

Jack watched from just inside the doorway. The one person that mattered to Martin was taking care of him, which left the job of finding out what happened to him and his missing sponsor. Or was he up here in this part of the state alone? Jack knew that was the first thing they needed to figure out, but it was usually the last things discovered in their line of work. He backed into the hall and tried the Assistant Director Fitzgerald's phone number again. He got a message that the inbox was full.

As he hung up, he asked the doctor, "Did Martin have his phone on him?"

"Not that I know of. Everything he had with him is in there." The Doctor pointed at a tiny closet. "Does he have any family?"

Jack headed to the closet. "Yes, but we haven't been able to reach them either." He pulled the still damp clothing from their respective hangers and patted them down. The filthy white t-shirt and jeans were torn and stained with blood, the pockets empty. Jack surmised the small pile of muddy white on the closet floor was Martin's socks. They, too, were shredded. No shoes?

"I'm off duty in ten minutes," Dr. Cross said. "I'll call Martin's previous physician for some more information. After that, Nettie knows how to reach me if you need me."

Jack glanced at the small figure standing aside in Samantha's shadow. "Thanks, Doctor," he replied. "For everything."

"Sure. Good luck. I think this young man could use some right about now."

* * *

Vivian frowned at her monitor. The property tax records of their current case gave her a headache - this guy dealt property deeds like a gambler dealt cards; he could be anywhere. When her cell rang, she welcomed the interruption. She listened quietly as Jack's gruff voice summed up the situation.

"But physically, Martin's okay?" she asked. Both Elena's and Danny's heads swiveled her direction with the comment. "What can we do?" Her teammates moved to her side as she listened and jotted notes. "Uh, huh. Got it. We're on it." She snapped the phone closed.

"Well?" Elena asked, arms crossed in front of her. Danny tilted his head and waited expectantly.

Vivian pushed to her feet. "Our current case has been shifted to another team. Officially, our new case is Martin's hiking partner."

"And unofficially?" Elena inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Unofficially, we're looking for Victor Fitzgerald. It seems he's gone missing in the same time frame and the brass isn't looking at it to be a coincidence."

"Probably because it never is," Danny agreed, propping an elbow on the opposite crossed arm and resting a finger over his lips. "What's Martin say?"

Vivian's soulful eyes softened. "Nothing. He's not talking."

Elena frowned. "He's unconscious?"

"No, it looks like severe shock. He has a concussion and is awake, but not responding to anyone. Catatonic." The three of them exchanged worried looks. "The weird part is that Olczyk couldn't get in touch with _any_ family. That's why they called Jack this morning."

"Did Jack say where he wanted us to start?" Elena asked.

"He's going through Lucy to ping Martin's phone since it's not with Martin at the moment. I'll order his phone records and go through Martin's computer. Danny? You know this hiking buddy, right?"

"Yeah, I know who he is, so I'll start there." He glanced at his watch. "The N.A. office will be the faster way to get his info." Danny snatched up his coat from his chair.

"I'll hit Martin's apartment?" Elena asked.

Viv nodded, picked up her phone and began punching in a number. "Jack said the Tolands have a hunting cabin somewhere, too. I'll try to locate it. Give me anything you find since phone service is spotty in West Virginia. Clock's tickin', people."

TBC

03-19-11

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback, readers! I will reply when I am able! - AJ_


	4. Chapter 4

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter Four

Cell reception remained as predictable as a teenager's emotions, but Jack found it to be more or less stable in the Urgent Care parking lot. The offered land lines in the building worked well, too, but he found the need to pace as he listened to Lucy ping Martin's cell phone. The skilled tech had been trying since Jack's departure from the building without luck until now. Where ever Martin's phone was, someone finally powered it up.

"It's west of here and, so far, out of state," Lucy started. Jack heard paper rustling and Lucy thanking someone offline. "Jack? Agent Johnson's here. The BOLO on Martin's car got a hit. It's at the airport. Security found it an outer lot. I'm putting Agent Johnson on speaker phone." There was a rustle and a click, and then Jack could hear office noises in the background.

Jack frowned. "I thought Martin drove to his -" he paused when he heard a beep in his ear. "Hold on, Viv, incoming call." Jack read the display and frowned at the unfamiliar number. It was a Pennsylvania area code. He took the call. "Jack Malone."

"Mr. Uh - Malone, did you say?" A male voice asked.

"Yes, Jack Malone. F.B.I. New York. And you are - ?"

"F.B.I.?" The man sounded surprised. "This is Phil Stafford, U.S. Airlines. We have a cell phone here with your number first on the Contact list. An attendant found it on one of our planes."

"U.S. Air? What airport?" Vivian's information about Martin's car wasn't so peculiar now.

"Pittsburgh. The name on the phone is Fitzgerald?"

"He's one of my agents. He can't pick it up anytime soon so send it to his office in New York." Jack gave him the address and disconnected. "Vivian?"

"The phone is in Pittsburgh," Lucy's voice piped up without preamble.

Jack smirked. "Yeah, I know. It's at the airport."

"Which is makes sense with the location of Martin's car here," Vivian said sagely. "Would be nice to know why he flew to Pittsburgh."

"Looks like he went there to drive here - or somewhere around here," Jack summed up. "Viv? Run Martin's phone records and check with the head office about digging into Victor's records. Compare the calls to Victor's for the last few days. And credit cards. See if either one or both rented a car in Pittsburgh. Maybe we can confirm that they were together or meeting up somewhere."

"I'm on it. Shouldn't be a problem since I just got orders to hand over the case we were working to Davis' team to work on this. Shall I go check Martin's car or have airport security look inside?"

"Have security do it. Have them look for receipts or anything that would give us a clue as to where he was going. And thanks, Luce."

Jack was about to hang up when Lucy asked, "Jack? Let us know how Martin's doing?"

He smiled. "Sure. I'll keep you in the loop."

"Thanks," she said, sounding relieved. "Bye, sir."

Jack took a deep breath and stretched, trying to loosen the stubborn muscles in his lower back. Before going back inside, he decided to take a lap around the tiny parking lot to clear his head. The damp, woodsy smell and peaceful quiet was nothing like Manhattan; it should have relaxed him, but it just drove home his reason for being here.

Jack's hand just felt the cold of the clinic's entry door handle when his phone rang. "Malone."

"Jack? Viv. They found bloody clothes in the trunk of Martin's car and nothing to tell us where he went from there."

* * *

Danny didn't have too much trouble nailing down Martin's sponsor. He knew Ed, too, but only as "Ed D." according to N.A. rules. In the handful of times he spoke to him, Danny discovered that he was retired NYPD and a very funny guy. Although Danny never directly inquired, he also knew that the man was very helpful as Martin's sponsor and the two got on quite well together.

Getting Ed's address would breach all kinds of N.A. rules but Danny felt it would be possible; after all, the organization knew him, too. When he pushed open the local headquarter door and stepped inside, a wash of uncomfortable familiarity rushed through his veins.

To the uninitiated, the room was plain and dark, the plastic chairs uncomfortable and rickety; to someone trying to get some modicum of control into their lives, however, it was a safe haven and life preserver. Every time he stepped in here, he remembered the dark place in which he used to dwell. Now, the room was empty, save for the single person that raised his head upon Danny's entrance.

"Danny," he greeted. "Good to see you."

"Mitch," Danny replied as they shook hands and took immediate note of the man's sad features. Usually, Mitch G. was energetic and outgoing; now, his expression was grim. Danny glanced over Mitch's shoulder at the bulletin board and frowned. "Something going on?"

A black-edged announcement for a memorial service was centered on the board and just above it, Ed D's face smiled from a black and white photograph. Danny leaned in and his pulse jumped. "What's this? When did this happen?"

"Two days ago," Mitch reported. "What a waste. He was shot during a hold-up at a market." He handed Danny a news clipping. "It's a great loss to our Chapter."

Danny scanned the story and wondered if Martin knew about it. Mentally backtracking, he realized that the murder occurred the same morning Ed and Martin were supposed to leave town. Fishing his phone from his pocket, Danny called one of his Police Department contacts and got the name and number of the detective investigating the incident, and then excused himself from the room.

Since the local precinct was only a block away, he called Detective Jansen as he walked and arranged a meeting. Danny hoped he could at least look at the file if Jansen wasn't in the office but luckily, he was in and Danny sat at the Detective's desk just a few minutes later. The room was noisy with chatter and ringing phones so Danny had to lean in to carry a conversation.

"Yeah, it's a shame," Jansen said as he slipped a file from the pile on his desk and slid it toward Danny. He had a phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he brushed donut crumbs from his desktop. A mug half full of coffee sat to one side, _Proud to be a Pig _emblazoned on the side. "I didn't know Ed but apparently some of the older guys here did. Disability retirement after getting shot on duty and then he goes out the same way. Dirty shame. Hello?" Jansen turned his attention to his phone and indicated with a wrist flick that Danny was free to look at the file.

Danny flipped through the papers, noting the date and time of the crime. The last pages of the file were photographs and Danny studied them closely, surprised when he picked out Martin in one of them. His missing partner was standing in front of a crowd on the sidewalk, his head canted downward as he forever stared at Ed's bloody body at his feet. Danny could see the despair in his eyes and his heart broke. Blood stained Martin's t-shirt, arms and hands, but what sickened him most was that it was painfully clear that his partner and friend wasn't hearing anything in that moment in time even though a uniformed Officer, a sympathetic hand resting on Martin's shoulder, spoke directly in his ear. Danny saw that same expression on his friend's face before. He hated it then - this was worse.

He returned the photo to the file and scanned the witness list and the summary of the event. When Jansen ended his phone conversation and dropped the cell on his desk, Danny asked, "Martin was first on the scene?"

"Fitzgerald? Yeah. One of your guys, right? He tried to stop the bleeding. Ed died right under his hands."

"Jesus," Danny muttered. He ran his hand over his eyes and then covered his mouth for a moment. He felt sick. "Did he see the suspects?"

"No. They split out the back. Ed fell outside; he must have walked in on them. They shot the owner, too."

Detective Jansen frowned and tipped his head. "Fitzgerald didn't tell you any of this?"

"No," Danny said. "He's – uh, not in the City at the moment."

"Well, tell him about Ed's memorial, will ya? He may want to be there."

"Sure. Thanks." Danny shook Jansen's hand and left the station. Outside, the cool air helped settle his stomach as he walked briskly to the corner and stopped with a sigh. "Damn, Fitz, your timing stinks," he muttered as he called Vivian.

Jack could gage Sam's weariness by the curve of her body. Even invisible, the weight she carried on her shoulders affected every part of her. He also knew she would deny her obvious weariness and couldn't blame her. She looked up at his approach and forced a tired smile before turning back to Martin.

"He's asleep." She stood and gently placed Martin's arm across his stomach before leaning down and brushing a kiss on his forehead. "I'll be close," she whispered.

Jack took her elbow and steered her to the door. She stopped abruptly and shot a glare his way. "Don't worry, I just wanted a little distance," he explained quietly.

She caught his eyes. "You found something out, didn't you? Did you find Victor?"

"No, but we found Ed," Jack said, watching her carefully. "He's dead. Murdered."

"What?" Sam yelped, then in a quiet voice, asked, "When? Where? Here?"

"In New York when he was meeting Martin, I guess. Walked in on a robbery at a market. They shot Ed and the market owner and Martin was the first on scene. He tried to save Ed." Jack decided to skip the bloody details for now. Sam appeared shaken.

"But he . . . He didn't . . . Why didn't Martin call me?" She turned and cast a worried look toward the still figure in the bed. "That was two days ago, Jack!"

"Shhh, shhh, I know, I know. It looks like he went to the airport from there. The clothes he wore at the scene were in the trunk of his car, which is parked at the airport."

"The airport?"

"He flew to Pittsburgh." Jack shook his head at Sam's perplexed expression. "Not sure why yet, but his last call received was from Victor shortly after the shooting. He left his phone on the plane in Pittsburgh. I had the finder read off the last received calls."

"Why Pittsburgh?"

"I hoped you could shed some light on that."

"No." Samantha shook her head slowly and rubbed her eyes. "God, it must have been awful. Martin really liked Ed. I can't believe it. Why didn't he call me?"

They stood quietly side by side in the muted light of the room and watched Martin's chest rise and fall in sleep. Jack could feel Sam's quiet despair through the tense set of her jaw and watery eyes. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

"You'll get through this. He'll get through this. He's lucky to have you, Samantha." They walked back to the bedside and Samantha gathered up Martin's hands in hers. "I'll get you some coffee."

He could hear her whispering as he walked away and had the strangest feeling that this was not over yet.

TBC

3-25-11

_A/N: Advanced warning: The story timeline may trip me up - another obstacle when posting-as-writing! Please send along any timeline inconsistencies you find? Thx! Again, thank you for coming along on this adventure. AJB_


	5. Chapter 5

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter Five

Elena did not expect the invasion of privacy feeling when she stepped into Martin's apartment; this was not the usual stranger's home. She thanked the building supervisor and pointedly closed the apartment door in the man's face to keep some of Martin's life private. It was little comfort, but the motion helped build feelings of camaraderie with her missing work partner.

As she expected, the apartment was neat and tasteful. Samantha told her once that she was embarrassed because Martin's place was usually tidier than hers was, even before Finn was in her life. Recalling the conversation made Elena smile as she cruised the rooms looking for anything tell-tale or odd. Nothing struck her, so the next thing she did was locate his personal phone book.

The book was in a kitchen drawer. On the counter above, an older model answering machine blinked ominously. It indicated that there were 15 unheard messages. Elena hit the play button which began a parade of brief messages as she leafed through the phone book. Martin's crisp handwriting was easy to read and the book held information on people across the country. The oral messages reminded her missing partner of a dental appointment, confirmed an order's arrival at a local bookstore, a pair of pre-recorded sales pitches and a woman's sultry reminder that he was overdue for a haircut. That one made Elena chuckle.

After a quick look through the entire book, she flipped back to the "F" tab and found Victor's impressive list of numbers and addresses. Elena ran her finger down the first three lines, and then stopped abruptly at the changing tone of the messages on the machine.

"Marty, please pick up! Where are you?" a young woman's voice begged, hanging up after a sob of frustration. Elena heard other voices in the background before the connection broke.

"Martin, please call me! Where are you? Answer your cell!"

Elena noted the date and time of the calls - late morning on Tuesday. Based on the team's timeline, Martin should have been on the road with his hiking buddy when the calls recorded. Did he turn off his cell phone?

"Martin. Please. It's Allie." The calmer demeanor was a second woman's voice, but the tone was just as agonized as the first. "It's dad. We need you here, okay? Call my cell as soon as you get this."

Elena flipped to the "T" section, recalling a couple of cousins named Toland. She paused at the crossed out cell number for Bonnie Toland, remembering Samantha's sad description of the events prior to the woman's passing. Allison, Alyssa and Roger's names and numbers were under Bonnie's.

Next on the tape were several hang ups with no messages, one of a crying woman – Elena figured it was the first woman – and, after that, one last message from Allie. Sorrow hoarsened her voice: "Martin? We need you here. Love you." The last call's time stamp was 12:20, early Tuesday afternoon.

Elena called Vivian. "Hey, Viv, I think something is going on with Martin's cousins - is Allie one of them?"

"Yes. Their father, Roger, is Martin's Uncle. Did they say where they were?"

"No, but here are the time of the final calls and the cell numbers in Martin's book." Elena relayed the times captured by the machine and the list of numbers filed under the letter "T".

Elena heard papers shuffle. "Both Martin and Victor received calls from these numbers - all cell phones, so no locations. The locals can go by their homes because no one is answering the numbers now." There was a touch of frustration in Viv's tone.

"Did Danny find Ed yet?" Elena asked. This whole situation was nothing but frustrating.

"Yes, and it's not good." She briefed Elena on the tragedy and Martin's grisly role.

"Good God," Elena sighed as she rubbed the tense furrow between her eyebrows. "Poor Martin."

"Tuesday definitely was not a good day for him, that's for sure." There was a slight pause as both women's thoughts turned over. "Sounds to me like the Tolands are the reason Martin's in West Virginia. He left his cell on the plane in Pittsburgh, which is an easy drive to West Virginia."

"Sam told Jack something about a hunting cabin, right?"

"I'll start looking into that."

"I'll contact the upstate police," Elena offered. "I have the cousins' addresses right here."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Viv?"

"Yes?"

Elena hesitated, not wanting to think the worst, but her instinct told her that Martin was in for more heartache. "Give my sympathies to the family? You know, if it's appropriate? I have a very bad feeling."

She could hear the sad smile in Vivian's reply; she, too, was thinking the worst. "I will. And call Danny. He could use a little sympathy, too."

* * *

Nettie returned to the hospital after finishing her chores, drawn in some invisible way to the silent patient. When she parked her car, she saw Agent Malone talking on his cell and looking distinctly unhappy. His eyebrow raised at her approach, eyeing the three coffees lodged in the tray she carried. He uttered a gruff "Thanks" when she offered him one, intent on the phone. Whatever he heard was not good - not a difficult assumption due to his expression - and it directly affected Martin. Nettie's heart had skipped.

Dumping the tray in the lobby, Nettie held two large cups of coffee when she paused in the doorway of Martin Fitzgerald's room, looking for an indication that she was welcome. It did not take long to gage the atmosphere; the frustration and anxiety on Samantha's face drove her forward. "Hi," Nettie greeted softly once she was at the woman's side. "Here, honey. You look like you could use this."

Samantha straightened in the hospital chair pulled as close to the bed as possible and turned weary eyes in Nettie's direction. One hand held Martin's hand tightly and the other rubbed away what Nettie suspected were tears from flushed cheeks. Samantha sniffed, confirming Nettie's suspicion, and then forced a fragile smile.

"Thanks," she whispered when she accepted the coffee. With something else to focus on, Sam released Martin's hand and wrapped both trembling palms around the cup. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment while the pungent steam curled around her nose. She inhaled deeplly, opened her eyes, and then took a careful sip as her gaze returned to the still form in the bed.

Nettie stood quietly at her shoulder and assessed the patient. Martin appeared to be awake. His wide, blue eyes stared ahead into a void Nettie couldn't begin to understand; what he saw was more than likely more painful than any of them could imagine. The need to comfort him was strong, startling Nettie with depth of feeling she had for the young man. Over the years, a handful of patients managed to worm their way into her heart, but this one managed to do so without uttering a word. It mystified her.

Allowing instinct to move her, Nettie circled around the bed, lowered the rail and fussed with the linens. Using a low, comforting voice, she straightened the sheets, fluffed a fresh pillow and switched it out, and adjusted the bed to raise and slightly bend Martin's knees. She checked his pulse and skin, noting the blossoming bruises starting reveal themselves. Before she could stop herself, Nettie's hand smoothed back Martin's hair and she cupped his chin in her hands for a moment. "You just wait until you're ready, okay?" she said, trying to catch his eyes with hers. "There are people here that love you and will stand by you, but only when you are ready."

She paused, clucked once, and then took a step back and raised the bedrail on her side. She checked the I.V. next.

"Thank you for all you have done for him." Nettie glanced to Samantha and acknowledged her with a smile. "I - I'm not good with . . ." Samantha started. Then she ducked her head and licked her lips, obviously treading on uncomfortable ground. She took a breath and pushed her hair back with one hand before speaking again. "I have a son. He just turned a year old." She stopped again as if perplexed at to where the words came from and how they related to her current position.

"No one can tell you what it's like to be a mother," Nettie offered, turning her attention back to the empty blue eyes between them. "Something just rises up and takes over - no amount of warning can prepare you for it."

Samantha let out a dry chuckle and nodded. "That's for sure," she whispered.

Nettie's hand lifted to Martin's cheek seemingly on its own accord. "Instinct is an amazing thing," she said quietly. "Don't fight it, and you will find you can do more than you believe."

There was a faint tap as Sam put her coffee cup down and Nettie heard the chair squeak. She glanced aside and saw that Samantha now stood, and that all of her features had softened, losing their pinched appearance. Weariness and worry still etched every line on her face but there was new depth of strength in her eyes.

Nettie let her arms drop and took a step back as Samantha claimed the space at Martin's side. Nettie nodded once when offered a grateful smile. As she retreated to the foot of the bed, Samantha's soft whispers now created a solid feel, one that offered nothing but loving support and safe harbor. She had no doubt that when he was ready, Samantha would be just the solid base he needed to come home.

The door whooshed open and Samantha ignored it. Nettie looked up to see Agent Malone standing in the doorway, an unreadable, closed expression on his face. His eyes, however, flashed something that surprised Nettie - it was quick to fade, but the disappointment that was clear for only a moment made her realize his feelings for the woman with Martin.

At first, Nettie wondered if Samantha knew, and then as instinct took over, she stiffened. Was this going to hamper Martin's recovery in any way?

The diminutive woman stood silently and watched Agent Malone walk to the bed. Samantha glanced back, aware of his approach, and repositioned by sitting on the bed as close to Martin as possible and holding both of his hands in both of hers.

"What's up?" Sam asked, her warm gaze never leaving Martin.

"Vivian located the Toland family cabin. It's west of here, near Shadow Ridge."

"Shadow Ridge?" Nettie repeated. "That's about an hour from here. That's the road where I found Martin."

"Is it the only road?" Jack asked.

"No. There's two ways in. The road splits not far from where Martin was walking."

"Then we have a place to start looking."

"Looking?" Samantha asked. "For what? Why was Martin up here?"

Jack took a breath and Nettie knew the next thing from Malone's mouth would be bad, and by the glance he threw Martin's direction, he debated saying anything in front of the still form.

Samantha's grip tightened on Martin's hands. "Jack?"

"Martin and Victor were on their way up here to lock up the cabin and bring Roger Toland's car back to New York. It seems that Mr. Toland had a heart attack while he was there."

Samantha bit her lower lip trying to control the tremble. Her eyes became bright with tears.

"Roger Toland died early Tuesday afternoon. His girls got there just in time to say goodbye."

Samantha stifled a sob and turned to Martin, who continued to stare into nothingness.

"Oh, Martin," she whispered hoarsely, raising a hand to stroke his cheek. Tears traced a line down her face. "I am so sorry I wasn't with you."

TBC

_A/N: Thank you sfulton, Cathy, Vinsmouse, Hawk, zaidie and especially NaggingCube! Your notes are soooo welcome. You all are awesome. - AJB_


	6. Chapter 6

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter Six

Vivian Johnson rubbed her eyes trying to banish the all too familiar tiredness from her brain. She snorted at the thought - could a brain really be tired? - and then forcefully exhaled in the hopes that all she needed was more oxygen.

"Any luck with all that?"

The agent looked up and smiled at Lucy. The technician's eyes were wide and she shifted her stance as if nervous. Viv always suspected that Lucy had a little crush on Martin, and that her anxiety surrounding Martin's case was just as deep as Martin's team members'.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say." Viv turned her attention back to the stacks of phone records before her. "Twice now we've learned that someone close to Martin has died. It's weird."

"Oh, no," Lucy whispered.

"On the good side, if there is a good side, we know that Victor rented a car in Pittsburgh. According to Allison Toland, Victor and Martin met at the airport and should have left together in one car. I let Jack know the vehicle information so at least they know what to look for. _Where_ to look is still a bit of an issue."

Lucy shifted again. "I wish there was more I could do," she said. "Let me know if I can help at all. I feel bad for Martin; I mean, Agent Fitzgerald."

Nodding, Vivian pulled a stack of papers closer. "The thing is, I'm not sure it's over yet. Victor's phone records show several calls to one number starting almost a week ago." She shut her eyes and again rubbed them. "The number comes back to a hospital in Virginia."

"Oh. That doesn't sound very good." Lucy covered her mouth with one hand as if afraid to ask any more questions.

Viv sighed and sat up straight and, after a moment, picked up the phone. "Can't delay it anymore," she said as she called the number in Victor's records. "Pray that someone has heard from the Director."

"Fourth floor." The female voice was brisk and business-like.

Vivian identified herself and asked to speak with anyone there connected with Victor Fitzgerald. She heard a computer keyboard clacking and then a long pause. Low voices, other keyboards and the swish of clothing made up the background noise as she waited patiently for any response.

"I'm sorry, Agent Johnson, is it?"

"Yes," Vivian confirmed. The fine hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle – that was never a good sign.

"You are going to have to speak to Dr. Clement. Do you want to wait while I page him or have him call you back?"

"Page him, please. Oh, and what department am I calling?"

There was a slight pause before the nurse replied, "This is the Massey Cancer Center. All departments are Oncology related, but this is the generally the woman's floor."

Vivian's throat dried suddenly and her tongue felt encased in dust. "Thank you," she managed to croak. "I'll hold for Dr. Clement."

It actually felt good when she was put on hold. A plethora of feelings swirled in her head and her palms prickled with anxious sweat as every bad medical related memory surged forth – Martin's shooting and recovery, her own heart diagnosis and surgery, Jack's beating and near drowning and the time they rushed Reggie to the emergency room for heat stroke during a summer basketball game. All those results were positive, but the term "oncology" always shaded things a darker hue. Martin's Aunt Bonnie came to mind, and when Vivian quickly checked the Fitzgeralds' files while Vivaldi punished her ear, her thoughts had already gone to the dark side. Her eyes stopped on a line in Victor's background file: Bonnie was Katherine Fitzgerald's sister.

Finally, a voice broke through the too-loud classical music. "Dr. Clement." His voice was strong and unrushed. "May I help you?"

Vivian introduced herself and her reason for calling. "I know you have doctor/patient relationship, sir, but Victor Fitzgerald is missing and anything you can tell us could help us find him. Has he been at the hospital?"

"Yes," the Doctor replied after a moment. "He first came here last Friday afternoon. He accompanied a patient. He told me he'd arranged it so he could work while he was here."

"When did you last see him?"

"Let's see – the last I saw him was late Tuesday morning, near noon. I understand he left around that time. I'm rather surprised I haven't seen him since."

"Have you spoken to him since he left?"

The hesitation before his words sent icy fingers up Vivian's spine. "No," he said very slowly. "I didn't speak to him, but I called his cell and spoke with his son, Martin Fitzgerald."

Vivian took a quick breath and tried to slow her heart. "When was that?"

"Let's see." Vivian heard rustling paper and the louder noise of a keyboard. "I spoke to Martin Fitzgerald at about six twenty-one in the evening, last Tuesday."

"And why do you remember the time so exactly?" Her question came automatically, and it sounded to her ears like someone else talking. Dread had made her mind take a mental step away from the conversation.

There was another thick pause. "You say Victor Fitzgerald is missing? Isn't he with his son?"

"They were together on Tuesday. We found Martin alone on Thursday and he can't tell us where his father is."

"Can't tell you? What do you mean?"

Vivian considered for a moment and took a gamble, hoping for a trade of information. "Martin was found wandering on foot along a road in West Virginia, alone, and with contusions and a concussion. Right now, he's in a catatonic state. He's not able to tell us anything and we are concerned about his father."

The silence dragged on for several long seconds before Dr. Clement responded. "When I called Victor's cell phone, I informed Martin Fitzgerald – who answered the phone - that his mother, Katherine, passed away at six- oh- three, twenty-two minutes earlier. Kidney cancer. Victor was here from the day she was admitted until Tuesday. That's why I'm surprised he was gone when she passed."

"Oh," Vivian breathed. She felt like a deflated balloon and slightly sick to her stomach. "I see. Thank you, Doctor. That information may be helpful to Martin in his situation. Can I have his doctor call you if needed?"

"Certainly," the Doctor said. "If it helps any, the phone connection was terrible."

"I'm sure it was." Vivian pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. "West Virginia has a lot of mountains and poor reception."

"I hope you find Director Fitzgerald. Tell him we are following his wife's directions, but we still need some signatures."

"Thank you. Good bye."

Vivian replaced the receiver gently and dropped her chin to her chest in an effort to get a grip on the foggy numbness that gripped her body. Could this day possibly get any worse? She knew that Jack needed this information but her clammy hand rested on the receiver for a few minutes while she regained focus. Martin's past year was one for the record books. How could so many bad things happen to one person?

Lucy reminded the agent of her presence by clearing her throat. When Vivian glanced up, Lucy's eyes were wide, reluctantly asking for information. "Martin's mother passed away on Tuesday." The words made Viv's stomach clench as they crossed her lips.

Lucy let out a tiny squeak that could have been "Oh". She turned on her heel and left the bullpen with her hand across her mouth. _"I hear you," _Vivian thought as she watched the woman depart, obviously upset. She sighed knowing the delay really was not going to make anything better, so she got to it and snatched up the phone to call her boss.

* * *

"Jesus." Jack squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead. "What the hell else can happen to him?" The arm holding the cell phone dropped to his side as he tipped up his chin and made a silent appeal to the heavens. Then he sighed, got back on the line with Vivian and ended the conversation.

He leaned against the brick façade of the clinic, reluctant to report the news to Samantha. She was already teetering on an emotional edge; this news could wait. Jack glanced at his watch and again at the sky - it was not as late in the afternoon as he thought. Black and grey clouds hung above, slowly rolling south and building in ominous color. Rain was on its way.

Drawn from his musings by the sound of an approaching car, Jack looked around and saw a marked police car pull into the small lot and head in his direction. Deputy Stevens stopped in front of him and rolled his window down.

"Agent Malone," he greeted. "I've rounded up a team to check one of the routes to the Toland's cabin. I figured you and I could check the other."

Jack didn't have to think about it. "Gladly," he said as he circled the vehicle. He got in on the passenger door and searched for the seat belt. "Looks like rain by sunset. Do you have an extra rain slicker?"

"Sure do. It's in the back seat." Stevens exited the parking lot and headed north.

The two-lane road unrolled before them as a wavy line, the paint marking faint in the dull daylight. Trees loomed skyward on either side, the branches occasionally intertwining above them in a natural tunnel. At any other time it would have been a relaxing ride, but his reason for being here and the multiple tragic events that had unfolded made the trip surreal.

After a few minutes, Jack relayed the latest grim news to the deputy. The man shook his head, uttering a low curse. He glanced aside at Jack.

"I am beginning to understand your man's condition now. Can't say I blame him for escaping."

Jack chuffed. "Me either. It seems that Martin has a penchant for bad luck this past year or so." He turned to look out the side window and Stevens grew quiet. The muted muttering of the police radio was the only noise for the next twenty minutes.

"Here's where Nettie found Fitzgerald," Stevens finally said, slowing the patrol car.

The unremarkable roadway was no different from the miles behind them. Except now, a light drizzle darkened the pavement, making it shiny in the last of the daylight. From here onward, the men turned their attention to the roadsides, looking for any anomaly that could be a clue.

The drizzle changed into rain, a slow and small-dropped kind of rain that called for intermittent wipers and allowed Jack to keep his window rolled down. The afternoon grey inevitably changed into the dark of night, hastened by the thick clouds cover. The police unit's spotlight made a silvery white circle on the side landscape and Jack focused all his attention on the moving arena of light. The clue they sought had to be extremely subtle or it would have been reported to the Sheriff's office by now. The locals would notice anything out of place.

About a quarter mile beyond Martin's meeting place with Nettie Wells, the road split. "This is where Craven Road changes to Craven East and Craven West. It makes a big loop. The Toland cabin is at the top of the loop."

Jack noticed that the east side rose upward along the foothills while the west side descended downward. Stevens explained that they traversed a shallow valley. The trees were so thick and dark that Jack couldn't see any of the terrain beyond the roadside.

"What's at the bottom of the valley?" Jack asked.

"Suicide River," Steven's replied.

Jack glanced at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, that's really the name. Way back in the 1800's and early 1900's, this part of the river took a lot of lives. It's deeper than it appears, and there's a deadly undercurrent. It flows over jagged rocks, so any unfortunate that falls in doesn't have much of a chance. We find a floater every couple of years."

Jack scowled, but Steven's only shrugged. "What can I say? It happens." The Deputy steered downward. "The other team is checking Craven East."

Jack swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The river's story did little to encourage optimism. Jack didn't believe in portends, but after the events of the day he couldn't help but feel dread creeping into his gut.

The police car crawled along the road. The lazy rain changed into a more determined rain as the drops fattened. Stevens flipped the overhead light bar on and the landscape pulsed blue and red around the bright white of the spotlights.

Perhaps it was the multiple angles of light, or it could have been to the low speed at which they crawled along, but when they reached a level section of road that curved along a rocky face of the mountain, something caused Stevens to stomp on the brakes. Jack felt the tug and light burn of the seatbelt across his bare neck when he jerked forward.

"Skid marks," the deputy pointed out. "And fresh-broken branches." Rain hammered the roof.

Jack leaned over and barely saw the faint rubber mark on the road's edge. Crawling vines shrouding the thick trees and bushes already started to patch the fresh wounds of the greenery. In another day or so, its job would be complete and the wound, invisible.

Steven's spoke into the radio microphone as Jack snagged the yellow slickers from the back seat. He shoved one in the deputy's lap, kicked open his door and slipped his arm into one sleeve. Once outside, he pushed the door closed and donned the rest of the garment. His hair was drenched and dripped inside his collar. Jack absently tugged the hood up as he strode to the road's edge.

Now that he was closer, he could make out the large divot in the greenery, all well screened by limber branches that snapped back to conceal Jack's passage. He heard Stevens behind him as he fished a flashlight from his inner pocket. The vehicle's lights only managed to penetrate a foot or two, and Jack was beyond its help. He could hear Suicide River now, its rushing noise far from comforting.

The ground suddenly sloped downward. Jack paused at the ridge and played the light around. Parallel wheel marks showed as black shadows in the soft, wet ground and Jack took a couple steps sideways so he was between them. Ahead, he could see faint marks of more destruction - a broken sapling, a set of toppled rocks with fading dirt belts marking their previous orientation and young, green leaves scattered across the ground.

The rain increased, its pounding now competing with the roar of the river. Jack barely controlled his slip downward, managing to keep his feet but ruining his shoes. He felt cold, damp dirt work its way under the arches of his feet and grind at the edge of his shoe leather. His hands were wet from pushing through brush. Something scraped his cheek and Jack sympathized with Martin's injuries.

Deputy Steven's shouted, but Jack could not hear him over the river's growl and the rain's whisper. He bobbled and caught his balance, and the flashlight's beam arched over the landscape. A reflected flash of red ahead caught Jack's attention. In his next step, the earth disappeared from under his feet and Jack slid the rest of the way down on his ass. The bumper of a car stopped his descent.

Faint thunder rolled up the valley as an earnest downpour blinded Jack. He didn't need his eyes to know that he'd found Victor Fitzgerald.

TBC

_A/N: I forgot to mention that this story is unbeta'd. Any needed corrections are welcome!_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Night seeped into the small hospital room turning the walls velvet black. Samantha, curled on her side next to Martin's still body, played with the edge of his hospital gown. The only light in the room came from the monitors - a pulsing green glow that told her that nothing had changed. She nestled her cheek on his firm shoulder and traced the line of his jaw while she listened to his heart and felt the even rise and fall of his chest. He appeared to be asleep.

"I don't know what else to tell you," she whispered. "I don't know what you need to feel safe enough to come back to me. I certainly can't make any promises as to how long I will be at your side, Martin, but I can promise you this: As long as I draw breath, I will be here, with you, and in your life. Our life. I need you, Martin Fitzgerald, I need you and your smug smirk and your beautiful eyes and your unbelievably goofy sense of humor, and how your touch makes me shiver . . ." She choked on the last word and forced herself to take a deep breath through her nose to stop the clench of her throat. "I just need you. Come back to me. I can help you through this. I want to help you. We'll get through this together."

She felt her phone vibrate in her hip pocket and gave Martin's cheek a light kiss as she drew the cell from her pocket. Sitting up, she rubbed an errant tear from her eye and looked at the number. She sighed, pushing down a sudden feeling of dread, and flipped the phone open.

"Jack?" she said. At that moment, Nettie Wells pushed the room door open and stopped in the yellow rectangle of light, looking to Sam for an indication to proceed. Sam waved her in and refocused on the phone, frowning. "Jack? What's that noise?" Nettie didn't move from the doorway.

Sam wiggled sideways and let her legs drop so she was sitting on the bed's edge. As she listened, she drew Martin's arm around into her lap where she held his hand in a firm grip, listening with dismay to her boss and friend.

"Oh, God," she choked after a minute. "This can't be happening. It just can't; it's impossible. The odds . . ." Her hand nervously played with Martin's, her thumb rubbing his knuckles as if confirming his presence. "He knows?" She tipped her head to regard Martin's face. "He spoke to the doctor?" As Jack relayed what he'd learned and what he later discovered, Samantha drew the solid connection of hands to her trembling lips. Tears coursed, unheeded, down her cheeks, anointing their union with sorrow. The phone slipped from her hand and rapped the floor.

Sobbing, she twisted and embraced Martin's still body, burying her face in the side of his neck weeping for the day's losses.

Nettie chewed her lip, her eyes misty. Taking a moment to collect her aching heart, she finally left the threshold and approached, first stooping to pick up the phone and close it before putting it on the bedside table. She paused again, allowing Samantha her grief and trying to keep her own at bay. Deputy Stevens filled her in a minute before and she knew this kind of loss; she also knew that there wasn't a thing that she could say or do to make it better. Both of them, Martin and Samantha, just had to go on feeling this way until they just . . . didn't.

Gently laying her hand on Sam's shuddering shoulder, she hoped the message of support carried through. While Sam wept, Nettie looked to Martin hoping to see a flicker of awareness, and shook her head at the vacant expression in his blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, not exactly sure which of the pair she addressed; there was something about Martin's eyes, however, that drew her in and she regarded him curiously. Finally, Nettie forced a blink and focused on Samantha. She held Sam's shoulders and leaned in, murmuring apologies for a situation over which none of them had control.

Samantha finally sat up, tucking her feet under her, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand while the other gripped Martin's. Nettie plucked tissues from the bedside box and offered them up. Sam released Martin's hand and accepted them with a small, grateful smile before dabbing her eyes and nose.

"You . . . heard?" Sam finally rasped. She fiddled with the tissues, folding them into a puffy square.

"Yes, honey, I did. I am so sorry."

"They don't know what happened," she said. "Martin spoke to the doctor and then . . . what happened?"

Nettie opened her mouth to speak when something in Martin's face again caught her attention. She tipped her head and a thought crease gathered between her brows. There was something about his eyes; they appeared . . . clear?

"How could he stand it, hearing that news?" Sam lamented. "He didn't tell me anything . . ."

"I . . . didn't know . . ." Tentative and raspy from disuse, Martin's voice was barely audible from where Nettie stood. Time stopped for a fleeting second before she gasped and tightened her grip on Samantha's shoulder.

Samantha twisted and met Martin's wide, dazed eyes, etched with confusion. He reached out with a trembling hand and stroked away her tears with his finger. "Sam? Don't . . . cry. I . . . I didn't know."

Samantha held her breath and sat, frozen, as Martin's touch affirmed his presence. "Martin," she whispered just before losing her ability to speak. This time, though, she cried tears of relief that washed away the dark anxiety. Martin awkwardly pulled her close, and she rested her cheek on his chest, worked her arms around his body and just hung on, each of them becoming the other's lifeboat.

Nettie choked at the emotional scene, finding her throat too raw to speak. Blinking to try to stop her own tears, she suddenly felt like an intruder and took a quiet step back before turning and leaving the room. Right now, she would inform Dr. Cross that his patient was awake. Later, though, she intended to visit again to get the end of the story. She knew that there was more than physical healing needed here, and now that a pair of chicks had found their way under her protective wing, she intended to make sure they got everything they needed to recover fully, both inside and outside.

* * *

Jack stood miserably in the cold rain, holding an umbrella that appeared from somewhere, and watched the Coroner's team work to extricate the body bag from the clutches of vine and shrubbery. Mud spattered shiny patterns below their knees that the rain slowly washed away. Numerous spotlights illuminated the roadway and bushes and cameras whirred and clicked as they documented the scene. A tow truck stood by, idling misty vapor from its growling throat.

Jack counted a dozen responders. The FBI bigwigs requested State Police investigate the crash while County deputies secured the scene. Firemen and paramedics cleaned and repacked their equipment. A reporter ambushed individuals in search of the story and Jack was glad he hadn't been approached. There was nothing about him that invited interview – in fact, the reporter looked Jack's way once and seemed to slink away in fear, much to Jack's relief.

The jump-suited Coroner helpers, breathing hard, lifted the bag onto a waiting gurney, which was then loaded into the Coroner's van. Jack waited until the leader snapped off his gloves and ducked inside the van's cab before approaching.

"Any idea of the cause of death?" he asked. Previously, Jack made sure to identify himself to the gentleman. "Was it the crash?"

The man behind the wheel wore an embroidered polo shirt with the state seal and "Medical Examiner" over his heart and had a voice that reminded Jack of Eeyore.

"I doubt it. His heart was not pumping when he struck the boulder. I can't say for sure, mind you, but everything points to his being dead before the car left the road. He was the driver, based on the tissue damage from the seat belt. I'll send you a copy of the autopsy report."

"Call me instead?"

The man sighed tiredly and then nodded. "After I inform the next of kin."

_"I think he already knows," _Jack thought as offered up a business card. "His next of kin works for me. Call if you can't get in touch with him."

The M.E. took the card and tucked it between the pages of his note pad. "Will do."

Jack nodded his thanks and stepped away, suddenly feeling exhausted as the county vehicle pulled away. When the van disappeared in the rain, Jack felt a presence and turned to find Deputy Stevens at his side, rain dripping from the edge of his slicker hood.

"Hell of a night," he said. "Did you give your statement?"

"Not yet. Can you wait a few more minutes? I'll talk to them now."

"Take your time. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks." Jack felt odd receiving the condolence. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about all this; neither did he know how this would affect the team. He watched the State Police Officer approach with shuttered eyes, exhausted.

"Agent Malone? I understand you called this in?"

"Yes. I found the body."

The officer tapped his breast pocket. "I'll be taking notes and I am recording this. Is that alright?"

Jack nodded and then sighed, his breath hovering as an icy cloud before dissipating. "Okay. We backtracked from where Martin – Agent Fitzgerald – was picked up on Craven Road and Deputy Stevens saw the tire marks on the edge of the road. They aren't skid marks. They're rub marks where the car went over the curb edge. There's no evidence of braking that we saw.

"I found the tire tracks in the mud and followed them to the vehicle . . ." From there, the picture flashed vivid in his mind as he recalled what happened next.

_It wasn't easy to get to his feet with the angle of the slope. Jack grabbed the rear bumper of the car and held on tight, using a hand-over-hand motion to maneuver to the side of the vehicle. Pushing a foot against the rear tire, he awkwardly gained his feet and looked around, puffing. The right side of the sedan was wedged against a tree, but a very large boulder had stopped the car's forward motion._

_Tree branches draped over the open driver door and Jack noticed that although the low brush along the left side of the car appeared recovered, it was still apparent that it had been trample down recently. He sidled along the vehicle, peering in the windows. Violently scattered clothing dotted the car's interior. The opposite rear window was open and a button down shirt, caught and torn on the interior door handle, trailed through the open window and dangled outside. _

_The rain lessened. The tree crowns shielded Jack from most of it as he moved on. When he reached the open driver door, he glanced inside to confirm the sedan's emptiness. From there, he searched carefully with his eyes, proceeding slowly so he wouldn't miss any clue. Nature's repair fixed the flattened grass and brush, but a trail was apparent and Jack followed it. Only now, he heard Deputy Stevens up on the road, calling for help on the radio, and Jack yelled at him to stay away so he could search the area unencumbered._

_The downward path leveled out closer to Suicide River's rocky bank and Jack saw a sock-clad foot. Clenching his teeth, he took the steps necessary to stand alongside the body of Victor Fitzgerald, shrouded with green growth, his dress shirt torn open to expose his blue-tinged chest. Jack immediately had a vision of Martin kneeling over his father and administering chest compressions to an unresponsive heart. In his vision, Martin was frantic - swearing, demanding and screaming all at once. Either tears or rain dampened his flushed and his breathing was rough exertion. Blood streamed down one side of his face and dotted his clinging white t-shirt. Martin's eyes were huge with fear._

_Jack took another step and the vision disappeared, replaced with the roar of the river and the shush of rain. He followed the centerline of Victor's body to his face and was surprised to realize the similarity of the Fitzgerald eyes – he hadn't noticed it before. Now, Victor's, fixed and dilated, were a hazy blue-grey in death._

"I followed Martin's trail through the mud from there to the road. I saw the broken branches that would account for his superficial injuries and the crash explains his head injury. The doctor says he wasn't wearing a seatbelt at the time of the crash - that's the only detail I can't figure."

The officer nodded and closed his notepad. For the first time, Jack noticed his name tag. Officer Jackson said, "You know who wants this report. It's not finished until I talk to Agent Fitzgerald." Jackson slipped his notepad away and produced a business card from his shirt pocket. "I still have to go through the car after it's towed. After that, I'll come by the clinic. Call me if there's any change in your agent's condition?"

"Sure." Jack tucked the card away and rubbed his eyes. A small part of him debated staying with the Director but he knew that he would be one of many once the FBI contingent arrived. No, he would be better received at the clinic.

Jack waved at Deputy Stevens and headed to the patrol car. The tow truck's engine revved as it backed up to the edge of the road. Tow chains clanked and rattled as they were dragged from the bed of the truck, causing Jack to wince and rub his eyes as he settled in the unit.

Stevens pulled his door closed and glanced at his passenger. "Need to stop anywhere first? Food? Coffee?"

"Nah," Jack breathed. "I need to get this over with even though I think Martin already knows what happened."

The Sheriff's car made a wide U-turn and headed back to the clinic.

_TBC_

_A/N: Sorry for the delay. I've been on the road for a week - I wrote most of this zipping through Arizona, lol!_


	8. Chapter 8

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter Eight

The rain blew away moments before Jack and Deputy Stevens arrived at the clinic. When Jack unfolded from the vehicle and closed the door, he took a moment to stretch out stiff limbs and a lower back that threatened to seize at any moment. Bending back to release tight muscles, he tilted his face heavenward with a slight groan; his slide into the rental car's bumper would leave a mark on his arms and chest. He could already feel it.

Jack opened his eyes to a velvet black sky full of sparkling diamond stars that were strangers to a big city. His pains momentarily forgotten, Jack realized that the term "stardust" had true meaning. Nothing else could describe the bright swath of Milky Way above, usually hidden by city lights.

"The doc has muscle relaxers," Deputy Stevens commented cheekily. Jack straightened and tipped his head in the deputy's direction. "I plan on asking for some." Steven's rubbed his lower back, his amused grin turning into a wince, and ambled toward the entrance. Jack followed with a muted grunt.

Stevens stopped at the reception desk as Jack shuffled down the hall. In the hallway's light, he noticed the specks of dried mud and the generally rumpled appearance of his suit. It didn't take long to realize that his hands couldn't brush away the damage.

"Did you bring a change of clothes?"

Nettie's voice surprised him. Jack lurched to a stop and tugged his coat together. The small woman blocked his way into Martin's room and studied him over the edge of a steaming coffee mug. Jack felt as if he'd just failed some kind of test.

"How's Martin?" he asked, somewhat surprised that he wanted to rate higher in her evaluation.

"He woke up about forty minutes ago. Samantha is with him. He was a little muddled, but awake and aware."

Jack brightened. "That's great."

He took a step to pass her, but found Nettie in his path. She moved with determined skill to block the door, forcing him to meet her eyes again. Her eyes had an accusing edge. "They are both asleep at the moment. They need the rest, don't you think?"

Jack pursed his lips and held her gaze. "Okay," he said. A tickle of anger edged his tone. After several seconds he asked, "Is there a problem, Mrs. Wells?"

As she regarded him, Jack could tell that she had questions. Uncomfortable questions.

"I hope not," she said slowly.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and set his feet. "Spit it out," he growled. "Although, I don't see why I need to answer to you regarding _my _agent." Still, he felt compelled to stay where he was, made to stand attention before a tiny, wizened guard.

"Which one?" Nettie snapped, eyes smoldering.

"Excuse me?"

"Which agent, Mr. Malone?" There was a silent stand off for a tense moment before Nettie sighed and set the mug aside on a chair next to the room's doorway. "I'm sorry," she breathed, rubbing her eyes. "We are all tired

"It has been a long day," Jack agreed, relaxing his stance.

Nettie eyed him again, this time with curiosity rather than animosity. "I'm feeling rather protective about Agent Fitzgerald." She smiled wearily. "That hasn't happened in a while - it's one reason why I stopped volunteering here. Too many losses . . ."

Jack nodded. "I can understand that."

She sighed again and managed a tight smile. Her eyes narrowed as she focused directly on Jack's. "I couldn't help but notice your . . . attachment . . . to Agent Spade."

Jack quirked an eyebrow, both surprised and annoyed. "You are quite astute," he said slowly, surprised at his flash of guilt. "But it's none of your business, really."

"Probably not, but I have to wonder how this will affect Martin's recovery. As I said, I've developed a certain protectiveness." She mirrored Jack's crossed arms stance and steady stare. "Does she know? Does _he_ know?"

"As I said, this is none of your business." What was it about this woman that made him want her acceptance? "Sam and I have a mutual affection. Martin knows." Nettie's eyebrow mimicked Jack's questioning quirk. Jack snorted in amusement. "There's nothing more. She and Martin share a much deeper connection and I am happy for them." He could see her weighing his words. "Really," he finished lamely.

Finally, Nettie acquiesced with a sharp nod and stepped aside with a smile. "And I believe you," she noted. "That boy is going to need all his friends. I heard about his father." Her eyes turned bright with banked tears. "He's very lucky to have Samantha."

"Yes, he is. He has all of his team, Mrs. Wells."

"Okay, then." She stepped aside and cleared the way to the door. "I wish you all the best of luck."

Before the word "thanks" passed Jack's lips, Nettie Wells was already striding down the hallway. Jack watched her disappear around a corner. "What the hell just happened here?" he muttered to himself as he pushed the door open and looked inside.

It took a few moments for Jack's eyes to adjust to the dim light of the room. He didn't hear anything at first, but as the forms on the narrow hospital bed slowly became visible, he heard soft, even breathing. Samantha's hair fanned across her shoulder onto Martin's chest. Stretched out on her side, she nestled against Martin, fitting perfectly to the silhouette of his body with her head snuggled deeply into the curve of his neck. Martin was on his back, one arm wrapped protectively around her. His cheek rested on her crown of gold.

Jack couldn't seem to move from the doorway as he mulled over Nettie's words. _"He's lucky to have her."_ As he watched, the shadows etching Martin's face twitched. His breathing hitched, and Jack heard a low moan.

Samantha reacted even in sleep. She reached across Martin's torso and pulled him impossibly closer. He responded, his arm crossing hers as he completed the embrace and tucked his cheek deeper into her hair. Martin quieted. Jack, feeling like an intruder, stepped back and allowed the door to swoosh closed.

He stood in the hallway for a few minutes and sorted though his thoughts and feeling a little useless and a lot lonely. He put the feeling aside and addressed his wrinkled situation; he needed clean clothes and sleep, but not necessarily in that order. At this moment there wasn't much left to do, but tomorrow promised to be a very long, emotional day. Running his hand through his tangle of hair, Jack turned to seek Stevens and the possibility of finding a bed for the night.

* * *

_The scent of wildflowers teased him, luring him through the open field circled by towering trees. He tilted his head back and saw the canopy alive with birds and butterflies. Billowing clouds puffed lazily across a deep blue sky. He scanned the grassy meadow, curiosity pushing him into a walk to try to locate the elusive garden that tickled his nose. The field was beautiful - dark emerald grass edged in light sea foam where bleached by hot, golden sun rays - but it did not yield a single blossom._

_A hummingbird's wings thrummed the air near his ear as it zinged past, seeking nectar. Martin followed its sharp, woven path and his heart lifted. They were close. The wild, sweet scent grew stronger as he approached the edge of the woods. The hummingbird zipped into the stand and disappeared, leaving Martin behind._

_He pushed through the grass, now thicker and hip-high., puzzled at how difficult it was to move forward. When he reached the dark shadow-line of the trees where deep green turned muddy black, Martin stopped, breathless. The air was heavy now, pressing against his lungs from the outside instead of the inside. He forced his chest to expands and suck air. Spots dotted his vision. _

_The ink of the woods was cold, its fingers reaching to suffocate the lone figure._

"Martin! Help him, he can't breathe!"

An unpleasant buzz cut through his brain and it awoke, pounding to awareness. Martin scratched at his head, his hands full of hair. A groan rolled up his throat and though his teeth. There was nothing but blackness and red pain.

Then cool hands cradled his cheeks. He forced his eyelids apart, stunned by the golden field before him that urged his lungs to work. Martin inhaled deeply, finding the wild flowers in Samantha's hair.

"Martin? Come on, look at me. Wake up, please? Martin?"

Wide, worried brown eyes hovered before him, drawing away his pain. Samantha's face became clear when his suffering fled. The sharp buzz ceased, replaced by a racing, but muted, beep. As his breathing eased, the beep subsided. His total focus was on her amazing eyes. He was safe.

Suddenly weary, he sighed and sagged back into the hospital bed. The recognition of where he was oddly reassuring. He heard a strange voice, lilting upward in a question.

"No, we're fine now, thanks." Sam spoke to the unseen person, but kept her eyes locked on Martin's. "Thank you, he's fine."

Martin blinked sleepily. Sam's mouth twitched into an unsure smile and her eyes glittered.

"You awake now?" she asked, stroking the side of his head.

"Yeah," Martin sighed, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he absorbed her touch. He felt her back under the flat of his hand. She trembled, and his eyes peeled open. "I scared you. I'm sorry." It was an enormous effort to talk and his words felt as heavy as stone.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I am so happy you're here to scare me." Her voice was light with joking.

He saw truth in her eyes and smiled. He also saw concern, weariness and most of all, love. He couldn't look away. Loss washed over him when her hands left to adjust the pillows, the cool sheet and the wire leads that trailed off the bed to a monitor.

The feeling of loss bubbled in his chest. Martin touched her arm with his hand to confirm her presence as the bubbles grew and boiled, pressing his lungs again. Sam immediately noticed his growing distress and she gathered his hands in a firm grip.

"Martin, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."

"Mom," he choked. "Dad . . ." It hurt to breathe and his vision swam. His throat was a raw wound, open and bubbling and taking away the air.

"I know, I know. I don't know what to say to take the pain away." She drew his hands up and caressed them with her lips. "I'm here. I will always be here, I promise you."

Bright tears split the shadows on her face with silver. Martin locked his eyes on them. Their warmth trailed over his knuckles, hypnotizing him. Words drawn from his parched throat reported a memory as it boiled forth.

"He didn't tell me she was sick," Martin rasped. "He said she wanted it that way. I didn't believe him -"

_They met in the airport baggage claim area in Pittsburgh. Martin thought he looked distracted and wondered if Uncle Roger's death actually mattered to his dad. "That's pretty cold, even for him," Martin thought. He was about to chastise himself when Victor's distraction turned to disapproval._

"_Glad to see you dressed up," Victor snipped._

_Martin's defenses shot up. Already worn thin from dealing with the violent death of his friend, Martin felt lucky that he had a change of clothes in his car. Sure, a logo t-shirt and cargo pants weren't Esquire inspired, but at least they weren't bloody. Anger warmed him and he curled his fingers to hide any dried blood still caked under his nails. Fuck you and your judgments, he nearly snapped when he noticed the lines on his father's face. Okay, they were both tired. Martin chuffed shortly and remained silent as they left baggage claim and headed to the car rental counters. _

_While Victor arranged for a vehicle, Martin reached for his phone to call Samantha and came up empty. Slightly puzzled, it took a few moments to remember and his gut coldly rolled. He'd just stepped on the plane when Allie called and told him that Uncle Roger had passed. In shock, Martin vaguely recalled sitting and the request to go to the cabin, and then tucking the phone in the seat pocket in front of him._

"_My phone," he said aloud. Victor turned, car key in hand. "I left my phone on the plane."_

"_You can get it later," his father snapped. "We need to get this over with."_

_Martin, taken aback at the venom, failed to fall in line with his father. Anger simmered again and Martin barely pushed it down. It wasn't the time or place. He followed his father out into the humid air where they collected a rental sedan. Martin tossed is backpack onto the rear seat and dropped in the front passenger's seat._

_Victor put his travel bag next to Martin's and slipped behind the wheel. "Don't you have a suitcase?" He started the car as Martin buckled up._

"_I was heading out to go backpacking," he snapped. "I'm lucky I had that. I was in a bit of a hurry. I hoped to see Uncle Roger before. . ." His throat closed, cutting off his voice. Martin turned to look out the window._

_Once they discussed the quickest route to the cabin, heavy silence endured. Martin's mind swirled with half formed thoughts and visions as the scenery raced into darkness. The recalled sight of Ed's blood on his hands caused sweat to prickle his palms. He fought the urge to look at them, imagining blood instead. When he finally looked, odd relief made him feel sick._

_A sign welcoming them to West Virginia distracted him and his thoughts turned to Roger and Bonnie. He'd spent many summers at the cabin, many happy summers filled with swimming, hiking and camp fires. His eyes burned and he cleared his throat. His children would have the same experience, he thought. Martin knew that his and Sam's parenting skills would be the exact opposite of his parents; they were reverse role-models._

"_Change your shirt." Victor's first words since the airport were terse._

_Martin felt up to the challenge. "There's nothing wrong with what I have on," he said distractedly, his eyes still on the passing of black woods. It began to drizzle. He felt his father's glance._

"_Must everything be an argument with you?"_

_That got Martin's attention. He turned to his father, his face illuminated by the dashboard lights. The lines around his eyes seemed deep as he rubbed his head. Victor's frown did little to improve the map of his face._

"_There's a plain t-shirt and a button-down shirt in my bag. It's better than-" he glanced at Martin. "-than whatever advertisement that is." He flicked a sharp wave in Martin's direction. "If we don't look like beggars maybe the neighbors won't call the Sheriff."_

_Martin's growing rage caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to argue, but something about Victor's demeanor stopped him. Victor stared straight ahead, seemingly unaware that Martin was even there. After a moment's pause, Martin unbuckled and reached back, working his dad's small suitcase open. He turned on the dome light to see and noticed Victor flinch at the sudden brightness. _

_Martin pulled out a white t-shirt and traded it for the one he wore. Then he flipped the suitcase completely open to dig for a cover shirt. Just as he found one, Victor growled, "Turn off the light. I have a headache."_

"_What is your problem?" Martin finally snapped as he flicked off the light. He shook out the shirt to find the inside tag. "Honestly, I'm surprised you're even here. I didn't think you even liked Roger; or Bonnie for that matter!"_

"_Don't talk to me in that tone. I deserve more respect than that." Victor rubbed his temple as he spoke._

"_The last I heard, respect is earned." Martin was shocked at the words spilling from his mouth. He glanced aside, waiting for the reaction._

"_You need to grow up, Martin. The world doesn't revolve around you. Your aunt and uncle spoiled you too much."_

_Martin blinked. "Grow up? What the hell does that mean?"_

_Outside, the steady drizzle turned into fat raindrops, each thud on the roof too loud in Martin's ears. Victor only gave him a grunt in reply as he turned on the wipers and gripped the steering wheel hard enough to whiten his knuckles._

"_I would expect Mom to be here, seeing Roger was her sister's husband. Not you. Where is she?" Something in Victor's hesitation caught Martin attention. Alarms rang and his heart pounded. "Dad? Where is she?"_

_Victor's phone sang and he pulled it from his shirt pocket. It was then that Martin noticed how bad his father really looked. Martin grabbed the phone from his hand. "You're driving." He flipped the phone open, still watching his father. The look Victor gave him turned Martin cold; his father wore a mask of fear. "Martin Fitzgerald speaking." _

"_Martin," his father choked. The car swerved._

_The caller identified himself as Doctor Weaver. After that, Martin heard only "You're Katherine's son" and "I'm sorry to report", something about "passed away" and "condolences" before the phone slipped from his grasp._

"_She didn't want you to know." Victor's ragged voice replaced that of the Doctor. "We argued about it, son. It wasn't right . . ."_

_No words. Martin had no words, no thoughts, no emotions. Then an inhuman noise escaped Victor's throat and his hands flew up and clutched his head. The car shimmied and Martin automatically reached for the wheel . . ._

Samantha cried silent tears for her lover. He blinked slowly, his huge eyes filled with despair, pain and unimaginable loss as his story trailed to a halt. His eyes pleaded for her to take it all away and all she could offer was her body. Without uttering a word, she pulled him close, enveloping him in her arms as sobs from the very depth of his soul rocked them both.

_TBC_

_A/N: I apologize if it read rough - I kept getting interrupted. _


	9. Chapter 9

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter Nine

When he arrived at the hospital the next morning, Jack pulled up to the front doors of the clinic and parked. Leaning aside, he could see his agents through the building's glass doors. Samantha nodded to someone behind the reception desk and then pushed Martin's wheelchair toward the exit and when Jack saw Nettie Wells rise from the desk and follow, he snorted, already moving to button his jacket. Jack, somewhat amused at his automatic response to the sight of Nettie, acknowledged the undefined need to stay in the older woman's good graces. Once outside, he straightened his posture and laughed at himself while he waited for the others to join him.

The automatic door whooshed open and he got his first good look at Martin in the daylight, Jack doubted Dr. Cross' judgment on Martin's release. The way he slumped in the wheelchair, his face pale and shadowed, and the settled bruising that blackened one eye made Martin look like he suffered a terminal disease. Samantha appeared just as wan and weary to the bone as she pushed the wheelchair toward the rental car. Jack saw his feelings reflected in Nettie's eyes as she trailed behind the pair.

Samantha stopped next to Jack's car and locked the chair wheels. Martin rose, resembling a shaky newborn colt as he waited for Sam to open the door. Jack stepped up, flanking the pair in case the patient collapsed during the transfer. Once Martin settled in the car and Samantha closed the door with an encouraging smile, Jack grumbled, "Tell me again why there's a no fly order?"

The shaky smile disappeared when Sam faced Jack. "He needs to leave this place," she snapped. Then she sighed, tipped her head skyward to find patience and gathered her wits before continuing in an apologetic tone. "It's just in case there's a problem, Jack. If there is an emergency, it's better he's on the ground than in the sky. Dr. Cross said that the prior brain injury complicates any prognosis. And to be honest, I don't think he could handle the stress of flying at the moment."

Jack shrugged. "That is a good point."

"He has a lot to sort through right now," Nettie added quietly. "The down time is a good thing."

Jack smiled at her and nodded agreement. "True." He looked to Samantha. "I guess you'll drop me at the airport?"

"If you don't mind, I can take you," Nettie volunteered. "That way, these two can head straight to New York."

"Okay." He cleared his throat and shrugged back his shoulders. "I'll get my bag from the trunk."

"Samantha, would you return the chair so I can say goodbye to Martin?"

Although phrased as a question, Nettie assumed compliance because she then turned to the sedan and slipped into the front seat, leaving Sam open-mouthed to reply. Jack chuckled when Sam snapped her mouth shut without speaking. She scowled in his direction and turned the chair back to the building.

With the doors closed, the insulated car was numb with quiet. The muted outside noise was as if they floated underwater. The thought crossed Nettie's mind if this is how Martin heard all things right now - gauzy and distant as if in another room. His wide, blue eyes looked at her with lost puzzlement, begging to know what was next.

"I understand your cousins called?" Nettie started with an affectionate smile.

Martin nodded, blinked and then ducked his head, picking at the hospital bracelet dangling on his wrist. "Yes," he whispered, his voice as dry as an autumn leaf. "Allie and Nicole. They apologized for not being here." A humorless chuff escaped and he rubbed his eyes. "They have a lot to deal with at the moment."

"And you don't?"

Martin grew still and stared at the vinyl bracelet. "Yeah," he finally whispered. His forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows dipped, and then his features smoothed with a quirk of his mouth. His fingers fiddled again. "Yeah."

Nettie expected more - he obviously needed to say more - but she understood. She reached out her small, age- worn hand and rested in on Martin's restless fingers. His motion quieted and he raised his eyes to hers. She smiled. "Remember that I am here if you need me. Sometimes a neutral party makes a good sounding board. Well, maybe not so neutral." She patted his hand. "I've met Roger, Bonnie and the girls before. I think I even met you once when you were about ten?"

Martin frowned, surprised into thought. "That's when I broke my arm."

Nettie chuckled and nodded. "I believe you fell out of a tree house?"

"A tire swing. Allie pushed me . . ." Martin's face relaxed with a fond smile. "I'd forgotten about that. We were at the cabin."

"And I worked here. So, see? We aren't really strangers after all." She squeezed his hand. "Any time you feel the need, I'd be happy to listen. Okay?"

Martin took her hand and returned the affectionate grip. "Okay. Thank you."

Samantha opened Martin's door and the quiet farewell was over.

"Martin? Why don't move up? Mrs. Wells is taking Jack to the airport."

With the small woman's help, Martin changed seats and they were ready to go. His mind, now stirred into action, whirled with disconnected thoughts and memories of the area when he waved goodbye to Nettie.

"That should be fun for Jack," Samantha said lightly. "She's not one to mess with."

Martin saw Jack follow Nettie to her truck. "She was here when I broke my arm when I was ten," he said, sounding slightly dazed.

Samantha glanced at him, smiling. "Really? That's funny."

From there, the ride turned silent as Samantha left Martin to his thoughts. The radio played quietly in the background, tuned so low that song was not discernable from commercial. Both of them dwelled so deep in themselves that it didn't really matter. The noise did an admirable job to soften the heavy quiet of the well insulated car.

Samantha's peripheral vision cast a wide net. She knew Martin's every move even as she concentrated on the winding road and with his every distressed action, her heart pinched. The first hour passed rather quickly with Martin dozing off and on. Generally awake after that, she saw his body shift not so much with physical pain, but more with uncomfortable memory. His hands are what gave him away.

Samantha loved Martin's eyes. They were wide and deep and alive with what made Martin, Martin. His hands, though, gave his eyes a run for the money when it came to expression. It never failed to amaze what he could communicate with a mere touch.

Embarrassed, she recalled how a sympathetic stroke to her cheek used to fly her into a rage because it seemed like he intruded so easily on her well guarded privacy. Once she allowed her protective walls to fall, the touch said, "I feel your ache and if I could take it on my shoulders, I would." With her defenses down, a single touch on her leg; her shoulder; her wrist; drew her into a hedonistic want, and the heat of his body fueled the flame.

Now, his hands told an old story she thought long buried, and they spoke loudly as they furtively clutched his jacket's pocket. Along with everything else forced to shoulder, Martin harbored a lie and as the miles unrolled behind them, Samantha became more and more concerned. She looked for clues by thinking back and came up empty - well, nearly empty. There was unaccountable time with Dr. Cross, which suggested only one thing - no. She refused to think along those lines and yet the one thought is where all the lines led.

"Martin?" she said after every scenario she played ended the same. He twitched when she spoke - a bare, subtle motion, but one she still noticed like a slap to the face. Her stomach turned. "Martin," she said again a little louder.

They were on a long, straight highway with light traffic and Samantha considered pulling over, but she didn't want to give him a physical chance to escape.

"Look at me," she demanded is a gentle tone.

It took a moment, but he finally did. She also noticed his hand slip into the jacket pocket and form a hard fist. She damned her vast peripheral sight and set her gaze on the road. She didn't want to see his eyes when she finally asked the question she dreaded - feeling the weight of them on her was all she could bear.

"What?" Martin's voice was a whisper of its usual self.

She hesitated. Would she batter any fragile buttress of security he had left? In the end, it didn't matter. A lie was never a good cornerstone. Samantha gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

"Did Dr. Cross prescribe anything for your headaches?"

Again, every wash of emotion that crossed his face in those first few seconds were clear in her 20/20 peripheral - fear, shock, anger and then black, deep despair.

"I . . . I . . ." he started. He didn't need to say anymore and he must have seen that she knew the truth. He ducked his head and withdrew the tight fist of his hand from his pocket. "I didn't ask for it." The last was so quiet, Samantha nearly missed it. He opened his hand, releasing the yellow prescription bottle. "I haven't taken any, Sam."

"But you were going to?"

Martin ducked his head. "Yes."

One part of Samantha wanted to brake and pull over immediately. Another part wanted to take an off-ramp and just follow it anywhere and never return to New York. Instead, she relaxed her grip on the wheel and fixed her eyes on the road ahead. "Why?" she finally asked, dreading the reply.

It took nearly a minute for Martin to answer in a voice stronger than Samantha expected; he'd held these thoughts for a long time.

"I just want to go to sleep," he said. "I want to wake up and have everything different. I want to say things I never got to say, do things I never did." He voice was raw as if he teetered on the edge of a very sharp blade fighting the inevitable, bloody end. "I want to turn back time and do things differently. There's such a hole . . ." His fingers wrapped around the bottle and he pressed his fist against his chest. "It hurts so much I can't breathe."

The car didn't waver from its path. Sam fought all desire to stop and simply pull Martin into a protective cocoon to help him forget. Then she realized that whatever he held in his hand was her competition and that Martin had to be the one to make the choice: He had to willingly turn his back on the artificial fix and walk toward the real thing on his own.

"I know." The words sounded thin and papery. "I know pain, Martin. Maybe not on the level you do right now, but I know the road. So do you. You have to be the one that chooses your path." She shook her head and took a deep breath to steady her nerves and bank her tears. "I want to help you, but . . ."

Protectively holding his fist to his chest, Martin turned to look out the side window. "I know," he whispered roughly. "It's my road."

They drove like that for many miles - Samantha, watching the black pavement unravel before them. Martin's posture did not change very much. He stared out the side window, fist clutched to chest, studying things she could not see and said nothing more. Two hours came and went. Samantha shifted in the driver's seat as the demand to stop became uncomfortable.

"I have to find a rest room." When she glanced to Martin, he nodded as she felt an odd sense of relief that he heard her. "I could use drink of some kind, too." The next crossroad boasted what looked like a small truck stop with fuel pumps, a busy convenience store and a trailer-converted-to-restaurant sharing the lot behind. "Any port in a storm, huh?" She said brightly.

She pulled into the parking lot to one side of the small store where the only space available was shoe-horned between two gigantic SUVs. A smile finally smoothed the lines on Martin's face as she swore her way into the space. Finally done, she cut the engine and let out a sigh as she patted his thigh. She watched him for a moment, eventually rewarded when he lifted his chin and met her eyes. His were still dull and lost, but their connection was still there and it warmed her heart. "Come inside, Martin," she asked quietly.

In the span of seconds that followed her request, Samantha saw something in his eyes she could not pin down. She also felt his devoted love toward her and its power stole her breath. She felt his hand on hers, and she turned her palm up to meet him. He held on tight and lifted her fingers to his lips, where he kissed her knuckles as he looked deeply into her eyes.

"I can't." The words barely carried on his warm breath. Martin's eyes turned vague and in that second, he looked completely exhausted.

Sam swallowed and forced a smile. "Okay," she said. "I'll get you something." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, feeling his lips willingly accept and reciprocate. The kiss lasted longer than she expected, and her spirits rose. Reluctantly, her bladder insisted an end to the encounter and she pulled away, leaning in for a moment to touch his forehead to hers. She licked her lips and straightened her thoughts with a real smile. "Try and sleep." She felt a slight nod and turned to extricate herself from the vehicle with a tinge of remorse.

Finally outside, she closed the door and headed around the corner. Before leaving sight of the car Samantha glanced back one more time and saw Martin watching her. She smiled back, threw him a kiss, and pushed into the store.

When she returned a few minutes later with two sodas and bag of Martin's favorite junk food, the car was empty.

_TBC_

_A/N: OMG, I am so sorry for the delay. Just when I thought I was crusin' along the fast lane in real-life, it turns into the Indy 500! I finally eked out a pit stop and wrote a little more. I do have an ending cooked up, so this will get done! Thanks for all the notes of encouragement. - AJB_


	10. Chapter 10

**NOWHERE MAN**

By AJB

Chapter Ten

Martin felt the pull of the river the moment he cracked the window seeking fresh air. The smell carried on the cool breeze, a heavy, recognizable mixture of algae, watercress and wet rock tempting him to follow its call to the source and escape the press of civilization. Breathing heavily, his newly purchased running shoes muddy and scratched, Martin climbed the last knoll and heard the roar of water reach its peak when he reached the crest of the slope.

Every scar and every fresh wound pulsed with pain as he stood and regarded the river that called to him. This is where Suicide River ended up, being a tributary to much larger Valley Bend River; Martin didn't think he could throw a rock to the other shore. The flow here was even more treacherous - stronger, faster, rife with rocks and boulders that discouraged navigation of any sort. Its humid whisper held him in a grip surer than quicksand and just as deadly.

Pounding water washed out any man-made sounds behind him. The thriving wilds and rolling hills blocked the sight of anything other than nature. It was just Martin, the brushy terrain and the river. He couldn't help but stare at the water's awesome power, clutching his prize to his heaving chest. The hole where his heart had been was still vast, untouched by the raw power and beauty that surrounded him. He dipped his chin and forced his fist to open, craving the contents of the unnatural plastic container.

Its call was as strong as that of the river.

"Damn it," Samantha snarled as her eyes swept the busy lot again. She held her phone in one hand, still unused. She didn't want to call anyone and cursed Martin for putting her in this position. At the same time, worry plucked at her anger; it niggled at the back of her mind and told her to hold off.

Once finding the empty car, she'd contacted every living body she could see in the immediate area and nothing indicated Martin left with anyone else - instead, a spotty trail of witnesses put him walking across the busy lot to its end. It felt right and she followed the feeling.

When she reached the end of the pavement, she prowled along the asphalt edge looking for clues. "Come on, Martin," she whispered. "Give me a break, here." Eventually, she stopped in complete and total frustration, grabbing her hair on two sides and pulling back with a growl-cum-moan. The action forced her eyes up, and that's when she saw the subtle path through the greenery formed by growth unnaturally bent in the same direction. She plunged ahead without a second thought.

She saw Martin as soon as she topped the farthest hill. He stood like a statue just a few yards below and to one side. Beyond him was the rippled top of a fast-moving river and for a moment, she wondered if he was going to jump. "Martin," she tried to call, but with her heart in her throat, it came out a dry croak that she barely heard over the sound of the rushing water. Martin continued to stare downward, beyond the edge at his feet.

Samantha forcefully slowed her breathing and made her way to him. As she got closer, she saw the tight fist that she new held the pill container and choked back a warning. She was about a yard away when he turned and met her eyes. The pain there started her eyes burning; was he already lost to her? Taking one more step she reached out and took his fist, raising it up and forcing his fingers open. The white lid to the pill container was gone and the jar, empty.

"Oh, Martin," she breathed, brushing the plastic from his hand. The container dropped, rolled over the edge at their feet, and she pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him as she choked back tears. Martin did not move at first, but then he responded slowly as if recovering from a daze by returning the embrace.

"I didn't," he whispered in his gravelly voice. "Sam, I didn't."

Martin turned slightly and Samantha's watery gaze fell to the river's edge where swirling eddies twisted between an archipelago of exposed rocks along the shore. Tiny white pills bounced and disappeared in the ruddy whirlpools and as she watched, the yellow cylinder joined them, bobbing seconds longer before sinking into the rage of water. She closed her eyes and let her tears of relief flow. Martin held her close and their combined heartbeats eroded the powerful draw of the water.

"I thought it was a choice I had to make." Martin's lips brushed her ear when he finally spoke. Their closeness allowed his voice to override the river's roar. "I thought it would be hard, but it wasn't. It wasn't."

Samantha found it difficult to speak and fought to control her tears.

"I felt trapped in the car," he started. "Those cars next to us – I couldn't see anything. I was suffocating. I had to get out and just . . . walk." He paused and re-established his embrace. "When I got here, it was so open, so free. I opened the bottle and expected relief, but that's not what I felt. It surprised me. I've been fighting the pull for so long . . ."

Sam closed her eyes and ducked her chin just enough to nuzzle his strong jaw. "Tell me," she demanded, unafraid. "What did you feel?"

"I missed you," he said. "I needed to feel you next to me. There was a void where you should be standing. Now that you're here, everything is –balanced." She felt him shake his head. "I'm not explaining this very well."

"You're explaining it perfectly." Samantha leaned back just enough to meet his eyes straight on as she cupped his face with her hands. "I know exactly what you mean. I will always be here for you, Martin, even if you fight me."

"And me for you," he confirmed.

They held each other close, feeling the warmth and solid presence for several minutes and then shifted to stand side by side. Martin's arm draped comfortably over her shoulder while Sam encircled him loosely with her arms. He moved slightly. When Sam looked up, she caught him rubbing the bruised part of his skull as he stared out over the river. His mind drifted somewhere else. She reached up and stilled his fingers in a light grasp which brought him back to the now and made him smile sheepishly at her. When he turned his attention back to the water, he began to speak in the gravelly softness that she'd grown to love.

"I didn't know mom was sick. Dad said she wanted it that way." Sam kept silent when he paused. "I yelled at him – I mean, I answered his phone and it was the _doctor_ telling me . . ." The words squeaked as his throat clenched. Sam rubbed his back until he could speak again. "I was completely blindsided, Sam. I had no idea – I yelled, he said she wanted it that way . . ." He paused to swallow and gain control. His eyes grew bright. "Then he grabbed his head and . . . and . . ." He pulled her closer and choked back tears. "Then we went into the trees. The next thing I know, we're outside on the ground and he's lying there; I must have pulled him out but I don't remember. I started CPR . . ."

With his next pause, she tucked him closer and they rocked together until he found his voice.

"My head started to hurt and everything was fuzzy. I remember hearing the river and the smelling rain. His eyes . . ." Martin gulped and his voice wavered. "They were open and black and . . . empty. I swear I saw them glaze over." Martin rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. "I still see it happening. I knew he was gone."

"I'm so sorry, Martin," Sam whispered.

He ducked his head, looking down to where he'd dumped the pills and was quiet for several minutes.

"That's all I remember. They said it was probably an aneurysm. Worry. Stress. Me yelling . . ."

"Stop it." Samantha covered his lips with her fingers until she looked at her. "It won't help or change anything to blame yourself. If it's true, it's something that's always been there. It's not your fault."

She held his wide, sorrowful gaze until he blinded and nodded with a sigh. It was a start.

"I remember hearing you," he said in a voice scratchy with emotion. He reaffirmed his hold on her. "It was like sunrise. It was so dark."

"I'm glad I helped." She tilted her head back and found his lips with hers. The kiss was tender, warm and unrushed, and it made her heart pound faster. They parted and she looked into his eyes and found a bit of peace. "You still need time, Martin. You can't rush this."

"I know. It's fine." He probed the tender spot on his head again and she bumped him with her hip. "Okay, okay," he grumbled. "I am so grateful to have you.'

She laughed and her tears flowed again. "I thought you would say something along the lines about me being all you have now." She wiped her cheeks and snuggled closer.

Martin's short chuckle was dry. "That sounds so desperate," he said. "And not exactly right. You're everything I have now, both you and Finn. Family. You've been that for awhile and I'm just now realizing that." He kissed her temple. "Thinking back on my last conversation with Mom, I think she knew it then." The last words trembled, and Martin fell silent.

They stood on the edge of the river suspended in time, feeling each other's warmth and support pooling strength between them. Samantha never felt as grounded as she did at this moment. From here, she felt like she – they – could take on anything. What really surprised her was the realization that outcomes didn't really matter as long as they stood side by side.

* * *

"You're kidding me, right?" Vivian Johnson looked at Samantha through her thick lashes, an amused tint to her words."Have you even met these people?"

"Yes, of course I have." Samantha sniffed and set her paper coffee cup on her desk, jabbing the computer keys into life. "In fact, we spent the weekend together. They are lovely people."

Vivian's eyebrow arched. "Lovely people? I've never heard you use that term before."

Sam tucked a loose hair behind her ear and tapped in her computer password. "Well, they are. They're from Iowa. That's where lovely people come from." Ignoring her partner, she attacked the keyboard.

Vivian chuckled and shook her head as Danny and Elena stopped to join them.

"She's only saying that because she backgrounded the crap out of them before letting them take Finn to Brian's apartment." Danny punched Sam affectionately on the shoulder. "I know you did. Don't even try denying it."

Samantha shrugged away Danny's touch and threw him an impotent glare before nodding shortly. "Of course I did," she muttered. "You would, too. They're looking after him for nearly a week."

"Since Finn is their only grandchild, I can understand their stepping up," Elena added, bumping Sam's shoulder with her hip. "When's Brian coming back?"

"Next week." Sam sighed and leaned back in her chair as the F.B.I. website uploaded. She rubbed her forehead. "This is so surreal."

Viv placed her hands on Sam's shoulders. "We are all happy for both you and Martin," she said. "It's time."

"It's overdue," Danny threw in. Elena smiled at him and took his hand. "You deserve each other." Vivian chastised him with a look. "You know what I mean!" he defended. Elena chuckled.

"Yeah," Samantha said dreamily as she stared at the screen. "It's time."

Elena smiled at her. "Are you nervous?"

"No," Sam replied immediately. "No, I'm not. I'm relieved."

The past Friday marked Martin's one year commitment to N.A. for living unattached. His horrible day of losses was over a month ago and among all the things he had to deal with, the decision to marry was the easiest. Martin was focused, his life prioritized and each crisis handled with a level headed calm that Samantha envied. Every now and again, she caught him staring into nothingness as his mind drifted, but he always came back to her, solid and ready to move forward. They made a great team and a united front to all obstacles.

Although Martin still attended N.A. meetings, his new sponsor wasn't attached to the organization. Nettie Wells fit into their lives as if she'd always been around. Nettie never judged or gave advice - she simply listened. Martin wasn't the only one that called her; Samantha found that she always came to her own conclusions when they talked. Nettie fit an unknown void in her own life, too.

Nettie also fit on their very short list of witnesses. Sam smiled when she imagined Danny's first encounter with her.

"Don't you have a dress fitting at ten?" Elena glanced at her watch. "I still can't believe you're even here."

"Eleven. Then I'm leaving for the day." Her partners drifted to their own stations as Samantha quickly sorted through her email and skimmed the last of her reports for the week. She added a few details and rearranging the conclusion on one, saved her work and sent them to Jack's inbox.

Leaning back in her office chair, Samantha looked to Martin's desk. He wasn't due back for another three weeks and she missed seeing him there, but with the multiple traumas he'd suffered and the unbelievable amount of decisions forced on him in the past weeks, the time off was well warranted.

Tonight, they started their life together and the cold feet she'd always anticipated had yet to make an appearance. It was right. It was time. She wiggled her toes and smiled.

_Epilogue to follow_


	11. Chapter 11

**Nowhere Man**

By AJB

_NOTE: After some research (Thanks WAT fans at DESTINED) Cousin Alyssa has been renamed Jamie in accordance with canon._

Epilogue

Long shadows rippled across the manicured lawn and neatly trimmed shrubs, telling Martin that time for his new life starting was short. Standing on the front portico of the stately house, he heard a pair of car doors slam followed by low voices and the crunch of footsteps on asphalt. The squared hedge lining the long drive was just low enough for Martin to see the tops of two heads. He smiled as Vivian and Marcus cleared the hedge, turned through the gateway and started up the brick path toward him.

Vivian noticed Martin standing there and after a visual sweep of the magnificent front lawn, she turned a warm smile in his direction. Martin gave her a brief wave- the last of his evolved family was here. The giddy grin she wore surprised him

"Sorry about the time," Vivian said as she reached the bottom stair. "It took longer to get Reggie settled at his friend's place than we expected."

"Not a problem," Martin replied. He shook Marcus's hand. "You can bring in your luggage later."

"There's enough room for all of us to stay?" Vivian topped the stairs and stepped between Martin and her husband. She gave Martin a quick, sideways hug as they walked, her eyes continuing to scan the area.

"Plenty of room," Martin reassured her. "Stay as long as you wish."

He escorted them through the impressive oak doors where a neatly dressed, middle aged woman with a warm smile met them immediately. She offered to take their coats.

"This is Sarah," Martin said in way of introduction. "She's the one to see if you need anything. Sarah, this is Mr. and Mrs. Johnson."

"Your room is all ready. We'll get your things situated after the ceremony if you would leave your keys over there." She indicated a marble table to one side of the front doors.

Marcus did as directed while Viv gave Martin a visual once-over. "You look great. You've put on some much needed weight." She reached out and smoothed his tie and Martin smiled a little self-consciously.

"I'm doing fine. I miss work."

"And we miss you, too." Vivian glanced to the archway of an adjoining room where soft guitar music indicated their ultimate destination. "Nice place."

"Thanks," Martin answered. "There's a restroom over there if you need it. Please make this your home, too." He straightened and glanced toward the living room. "We're starting soon. You're just in time."

"We'll see you inside, then." Vivian gave his elbow an affectionate squeeze then took her husband's elbow and moved toward the music.

Martin watched them enter the living room and then let his gaze wander over the spacious foyer. He walked to the center, his footfall echoing coldly on the marble floor, and stopped. The sweep of stairs to his right curved gracefully upward to the second floor, the Mediterranean iron railing both elegant and imposing. He regarded the stairway as flashes of memory popped into his mind.

He remembered running, sliding and jumping up and down the stairs and trying to ride the handrail, knowing the behavior was forbidden here, in the "public" part of the house. It was more tolerated on the less formal and private stairway that led directly to the kitchen, what Martin always considered Sarah's part of the house. He rarely saw his father there. He felt a pang of loss.

His thoughts drifted in Sarah's direction. Martin turned his attention to the gargantuan flower arrangement gracing the center foyer table, the size of the entry managing to make the display seem small. He smiled, fingering a colorful petal; Sarah outdid herself once again when she readied this house for his ceremony. Past gatherings welled from his memories - Katherine Fitzgerald definitely knew how to host a party. He recalled spending most of his time in his room after formal introductions, falling asleep to murmuring voices, muted music and the ring of crystal stemware. Earlier, Sarah thanked him for asking her to prepare the house for his nuptials; she was happy for him and glad to have a celebration to help her work through her grief.

Martin regretted that his parents weren't here to witness this step in his life. He did know, however, that at the end, they did approve of Samantha. With that precious nugget to hold on to, a swell of satisfaction consoled him and eased the heartache of their loss.

Martin abruptly shifted his attention from the past to the present at the sound of Danny's teasing tone.

"Nice digs, Ese." His friend punctuated the comment with a friendly back slap. Martin turned enough to spot the expected smirk and evil, glittering dark eyes. "I'm looking forward to a closer inspection of the game room later."

"Mi casa es su casa." Martin shrugged. "It's still weird thinking of this as mine." The pair surveyed the foyer for a moment. "Everyone settled?"

"Almost. You know women." Martin opened his mouth to make a scathing reply, but their attention shifted upward with the sound of children's laughter. A pair of girls appeared at the top of the stairs and Danny took a step closer to the rail. "Careful, Sofie!" he called softly. "Hold Ava's hand!"

"Okay, Papa!"

Martin's cousins quickly caught up to the girls and followed them down the stairs. The girls' dresses were frilly, flouncy puffs of pink and purple whereas Allie and Jamie wore classic lines and looked simply elegant. Jamie's pregnancy, just now becoming apparent, explained her husband's protective arm and glowing expression. Ava's father cautioned the girls in a gentle tone, slowing their descent but increasing their giggles.

"Life goes on," Martin said quietly.

Danny gave him an understanding smile. "That it does, brother. One day at a time." He gave Martin another affectionate shoulder slap as he stepped away to gather Sofie. "I'll get her settled and then it's your turn."

Martin nodded, emotion choking his verbal "Okay." His cousins hugged him and pecked his cheeks, murmuring their love and support before wiping tears from their eyes and following their spouses into the living room.

As they disappeared from sight, Martin felt the pull of family and wandered toward the room's threshold, stopping when the gathering came into his sight. It was a short list of witnesses, but everyone they needed was here. He watched them find their seats, exchange pleasantries and settle down, happily to the very center of his being by their presence. Sarah's touch was obvious in the ivory draped chairs tied back with yellow flowers - It was a far cry from the numbers usually entertained in this room, but Martin and Samantha knew and held dear every single one of them. They were family.

Vivian and Marcus, Danny, Elena and Sofie, Brian's parents and fidgety Finn, Martin's cousins - the remaining part of his blood family - and their significant others. The sight of newly found Nettie Wells sitting next to Jack invoked a grin and he wondered if that arrangement was Jack's choice. Surprisingly, Sam's sister sat on Nettie's other side. On her arrival, she offered her mother's expected excuse.

Danny straightened and walked up the aisle toward Martin, smiling broadly. "That's it." he said when he reached Martin, his hands lifting to straighten the groom's boutonniere. Martin grinned lopsidedly at the attention. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Martin answered, surprised at the jolt of excitement that raced up his spine. "Thanks, Danny. I'm glad you're here. This is perfect."

Danny rested his hands on Martin's shoulders and gave him a little shake, grinning like a fool. "It's nice that our last time together as a team is a happy one."

"Yeah." Martin nodded. Earlier in the week, Danny announced his transfer "upstairs" in accordance to FBI rules about married couples not working together. They were all surprised it took so long for the rule to be enforced, and both he and Danny suspected Jack's prickly nature had something to do with the delay. When Martin and Samantha announced their nuptials, the point was finally addressed. Martin and Sam had three more weeks to talk over their options. Currently, Martin considered jumping ship to the CIA and leaving his father's legacy behind.

Danny's little push brought Martin back to the moment. Sarah appeared, shoulders square and all business. "It's time," she said. She gave Martin's hand a squeeze, her eyes sparkling with banked tears, and entered ahead of them. She took a seat at the outside end of a row.

Martin straightened his jacket and smoothed the lapels. He gave Danny a sideways glance and fought back a laugh when he caught his Best Man smoothing his hair back. Danny caught the look, returned it, and then propelled Martin forward at the elbow.

Stepping into the room, Martin angled so they would walk down the center of the very short aisle. At its end, a white lattice arch and the Justice of the Peace waited. Behind him were floor to ceiling windows overlooking Katherine's beloved rose garden in full bloom. The sky was dusky purple, dotted with round, pink clouds. White lights, winding through the garden's trees, sparkled and the colored blossoms made a living Monet painting.

Before he knew it, Martin felt Danny stop him. He gave the Justice a quick nod before turning to face the gathering of friends.

"Nervous?" Danny whispered as they stood side by side with their hands clasped in front of them.

"Only if you lost the ring," Martin whispered back. He glanced at Danny when there was no response and saw him pat his jacket pocket with a frown."Danny?"

Danny immediately broke into an impish grin. "Gotcha," he said.

Martin snorted in disbelief and the guitar and flute combo paused. The two men stood straighter. Martin felt remarkably calm.

The music started again and Elena appeared in the doorway looking elegant and beautiful in her pale yellow, knee length gown. She held a small bouquet of ivory and yellow flowers.

"Wow," Danny breathed. Martin had to agree.

When Elena reached them, she gave Martin a wink and took her place at his right hand. The music switched up again, and the Bride stepped into view.

"Whoa," Danny squeaked.

Martin was breathless. Samantha wore shimmery, satin ivory with long, simple lines that clung in the right places. Lace trimmed the neckline and sleeves, and there was a tiny line of pearls at the waistline. Martin's eyes, though, settled on her glowing face framed with a tumble of wavy gold hair and a simple lace veil. Her eyes locked with his and her smile exuded the same calm confidence he felt. This was more than right. This was perfect.

At that moment, Martin knew his life was really just beginning. Whatever trials resulted from the recent string of incidents were simply gateways to a new life - a life that bound their two souls forever.

Finis

_A/N: Thank you again for reading. All feedback is welcome._


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